


Forever and a day

by cauliflower666



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Family Issues, Family Member Death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Medication, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Character, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Sexual Abuse, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Sad, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2020-05-16 00:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 67,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19307131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cauliflower666/pseuds/cauliflower666
Summary: Cullen finds himself increasingly confused by the strange, tall and distrusting Inquisitor. Is this simply loyalty or does his slow realization that they're not what he expected go beyond duty?The Inquisitor is nonbinary!If you're looking for fluff, sensible choices being made or a good time, turn back - there is nothing for you here :)





	1. Horns..?

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all like to suffer, and read through cheesy pining and angst, because that's what's happening here.  
>   
> I will add triggers to the tags when a new chapter contains one. Please let me know if you'd like any other warnings included. Happy for feedback and comments always! Now go be sad for fictional characters!

The fighting had been going on for days. More and more of the wretched creatures came pouring out of the cursed green tear; a seemingly endless stream of foul Wraiths and Shades, snarling, clawing, relentless. No amount of push-back from the soldiers seemed to diminish the eagerness with which the demons attacked; they never tired and certainly never surrendered. The sounds of battle mixed with the inhuman screams of the creatures echoed over the jagged slopes of the mountains and enveloped Cullen like thorny vines that seemed to pull ever tighter around him as his breath progressively shortened with the continued exertion.

He sliced his sword through the ghostly apparition in front of him, the magic fizzling and sputtering around the steel with a familiar angry crackle. It was like cutting through long-dead tissue infused with lightning. _Hold  the line, stand your ground_ , the voice of Cullen's former Knight-Captain rung in his ears, and he steadied himself, though the growing unease gripped his stomach tight. How long would they be able to go on like this? The situation was getting more and more desperate as the soldiers were being slowly worn out by the inhuman, evil energy that tore into them with the force of an ocean. He drew in a long, ragged breath and recalled his vows.

 _Never retreat. You are the last defender standing between the domain of people and the shadow realm._ Cullen steadied his footing, deepened his resolve. _One breath, two breaths. Keep going._ The old Templar tenets were interwoven with the fabric of his own being like colorful fibers in a carefully hand-knotted carpet. They were not easy to get out without unraveling the rest of him, he'd found. Once, he'd resented the idea of not being able to distance himself from his past, but he was slowly learning to accept the teachings for what they were: rallying cries useful in times where his resolve wavered; expedient tools, nothing else. His hands knew what to do almost by themselves, his muscles remembered all the years of training in an instant, and like a rolling boulder the fight in him was awakened whenever he heard the words that had been instilled in him like religion. He knew every syllable, every intonation like he knew how to walk.

Another one of the demons falls, dead from his sword. Cullen felt a shiver crawl up his spine as he viewed the snarling, twisted remains in front of him. ... _Dead?_ Could these things truly die? A demon from the rift, where does it disappear to once they have slain it? _Back to the Fade_ , a familiar voice echoed within him, and he shuddered again. And from it, they pour out again, feeding back into this horror again and again. _There is no end to them_ , he thought. _How are we to win this?_ A young soldier close to Cullen thrust his short sword into the amorphous mass before him with a desperate cry, his hands unsteady and bruised. He seemed close to collapsing. _Maker, where are the reinforcements?_ Around him, he registered with a grim certainty the remains of those among them who had fallen already. There were not many of them left. He saw another recruit slashing into the demon hordes feverishly, fear distorting his face and making his movements abrupt, desperate. You don’t get used to the nightmares if you know you won’t wake up from them.

 _They should be here by now._ Hot and heavy, his legs dragged across the ground; his muscles sore, blind spots of pain. He slashed another deep gash into one of the shades’ sides and watched green and black spilling forth toward him, bubbling and sizzling, and with a sharp sudden pain he realized that it was burning the skin on his hands through his gloves. _Andraste, give me strength, it’s just like they were, creeping, mocking, clawing - blood. All that blood._ The outline of the Wraith swam before him and he felt as if he would collapse any moment. Cullen shook his head violently and bluntly, trying to focus his energy into his sword arm - no time for this now. His eyesight was blurry and his muscles ached violently from all the blunt force, but he would keep the fight going. He must. _Duty before the self, always._

Another wave of demons spilled out from the rift _,_ and he heard his soldiers gasp in terror. _It’s too much, they’re too many and we will not make it._ Terror and despair clung to his innards like a wet blanket. Immediately the demons moved in - one desperate thought is enough to break concentration, just for a moment, and he saw the hulking red monster come down upon him. Cullen sucked in a sharp breath, ripping his sword and shield up with arms that felt like they were encased in molasses, but to no avail - _it’s too late,_ _I won’t hit it in time_ \- and with what sounded like giant glass shards crunching against each other, everything before his eyes was bright and encased in a milky white from one moment to the next. Glossy, blinding, and the air much colder than before around him.

He looked up at the frozen statue frantically; his exhausted brain had trouble registering the situation, and the light reflecting off the smooth surface of the ice wall in front of him was almost enough to blot out his vision entirely. In an instant, what looked like an arrow struck the ice before him and the demon burst into thousands of white pieces before him as he shielded his eyes against the shards with his shield.

Cullen turned, still gripping his weapon for dear life and in an instant, the panic melted from his mind. There they were, running down toward his group from the mountain - Cassandra, that mouthy dwarf and - the mage. _Maker’s breath_ , _I will have to thank the elf later._ _He just saved my life._ Strangely though, the man seemed to be engaged with another one of these horrors and lingered behind, spewing fire from his palms toward it above the heads of Cullen's people, not ice.

He watched the flames like in a trance, and a familiar contempt rose in him. _Magic_. The ever-present terror in his mind. He felt like he was falling into the fire himself. _Flames, smoke, ashes, whirling, choking, and in the midst of all, the demon, calling, mocking, searing pain...._ Memories as sharp and painful as a fresh wound rose in his head like icy water, and he tore his gaze away from the sight with his trembling hand gripping the hilt of his sword, and tried to focus on the Seeker who was now trotting towards him. He felt an immense relief wash over him, but soon noted something was different about her manner and the way she held herself.

As he looked up toward Cassandra, slowly, like through a thick haze he suddenly saw them. First, they appeared above her head like a mirage, a shadow in her shadow - growing upwards and encircling her head like a halo, rising and growing above her as the woman came further down the slope. Pointing towards the sky, curled and grey. It was… _Maker_ , it was horns.


	2. Frosty welcomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I change shapes just to hide in this place,  
> But I'm still, I'm still an animal  
> Nobody knows it but me when i slip, yeah i slip,  
> I'm still an animal

They had been running nonstop since that brash woman, _Seeker_ she’d said, had deemed it appropriate to finally get them out of their chains and instead started throwing them at these…holes. _Tears_ , she'd called them. Breaches in the sky, in the very air around them, through which the Fade appeared to be seeping out into their world, like from a deep wound. Adaar had never seen anything like it, and this was all a bit much for them to take in, together with the wonderful fact that for some reason they were her prisoner - and that they really, surely, had been running for hours now.

At first they'd tried to break free - throwing themself at the cage they'd been held in, thrashing and screaming and threatening these miserable humans. How dared they imprison them like a common thug? For once they hadn't even done anything. For a while the humans had recoiled from the snarling creature they'd captured. Adaar had seen them viewing their horns in terror, their teeth bared like the jaws of a wounded wolf. The magic had been fizzling in their tied hands, and Adaar had been ready to end them all should anyone have dared to come too close. Someone had put a force field in place around them in their cage which dampened their magic, however, and Adaar knew that there had been a Templar among these people, which had sent them into a mad, venomous rage.

Soon the humans had started moving in closer despite their obvious fear and had began shouting their pathetic orders at them from outside the bars. Sometimes Adaar was surprised themself with the colorful language they were able to summon, and it had had its desired effect, especially on the Seeker. Barking like a mad dog, they'd writhed around in their chains, and their wrists still ached from it now. The woman had remained strangely calm through all of it, and after a while she had entered their cell. Adaar had glowered at the Seeker and the ground around them had slowly been grown over by icy crystals. The humans outside had moved back with a panicked gasps, but the woman had remained unimpressed even by this and Adaar had been disgusted to see the crystals dying down around her feet, which had confirmed Adaar's suspicions. From their wretched position down at her feet, they'd laughed at her grimly. 

"What do you want, Templar?", Adaar had growled at the woman, ready to die trying to end her. The Seeker had launched into a string of interrogation and shouted orders circling them, apparently clinging firmly to the delusion that she had any kind of power over Adaar. When finally she'd seen that they would not waver, she'd grabbed Adaar's arm, and they'd seen their chance to make a move. With a pained cry, she had recoiled from the icy spikes that shot out of their skin, and it had sent her into a frenzy. With fire in her eyes, she'd drawn her sword on Adaar and seemed ready to impale them on it. "Go on and try it, please! I will fucking end all of you!", Adaar had laughed at the human who had looked ready to explode, when behind them suddenly another voice had spoken up, softer and without the unbridled rage the Seeker possessed. 

Adaar had never even noticed her enter, but there she was, another human in their cell. They'd reeled around with panic in their eyes and seen a hooded woman now pleading with the Seeker and holding her back. "We need her, Cassandra!" Adaar had felt a familiar rage boil up inside them. "I'm not a fucking _she_ , and I will not be used for any of your sick Templar experiments, _so stay the fuck back_!" The other woman had turned to face them, her hand resting on the Seeker's arm softly, and Adaar had seen her face for the first time.

They remembered a deep sadness and despair in her eyes, together with a strange determined somberness. "My apologies. But we are not Templars, and we wish you no harm, I assure you." Her voice had been calm and somehow reassuring, tinged with a soft Orlesian accent. The Seeker however had seemed to be of a different mind on this. "Tell us what you did to the Divine, Qunari!" Behind her, the other woman had spoken up again and she was still fuming, but Adaar had the upper hand now. The Seeker was bluffing, they knew, and these people needed them. For what, though, was unclear to them.

"What's your name, Ser?" the Orlesian woman had tried her best, Adaar knew, and she was obviously desperate for answers as well. But they had none for her, and were getting tired of the clumsy idiocy of these people. "I'm not a fucking man either, you goddamn morons. And don't play nice with me. You might not be Templars, but I see those Chantry symbols on your robes, you devout assholes. You're no better than them, so don't you fucking lay another hand on me."

The Seeker had been taken aback visibly, but the other woman was still nonplussed and had even smiled at Adaar weakly. Apparently she'd enjoyed the show of the thrashing inhuman wildling freak. It was the same wherever they went, Adaar thought. Humans either despised them openly or gawked at them like at a rare wild animal while marveling at the disgusting beast. It was no different here, even though they'd been freed of their chains. They still felt the stares of the soldiers, suspicious and careful, weapons at the ready always, even after Adaar had agreed to help.

Now their legs were columns of pain and they regretted this decision to help immensely, even if it had gotten them out of that cage. Granted, they were not without talent when it came to fights but this was beyond what they had encountered so far, doing the odd mercenary jobs - and there were demons. All over the real world, not just in their dreams anymore; hounding and killing everything and everyone.

What the hell had happened? It was just a simple job. Guard the damn noble from any pickpockets or whatever the fuck rich people were afraid of these days, get paid and after you maybe get to pet his dog for a while. Mabari. Their heart had jumped in excitement when they thought of those magnificent creatures. That was one of the main reasons they had signed their little straggling mercenary group up for that mission; the promise of a dog or maybe a whole pack of them had always been too good to turn down for them. Well as it turned out it had been so, so much more. _The fucking Chantry for starters,_ Adaar thought with a shiver of contempt. Mages and Templars. All pushed together in that space, it had made their fingertips itch, and then - the explosion.

After that, they remembered nothing. Nothing! Where were they, where were their friends? No one they knew was around anymore, there was just this Seeker and the chatty dwarf and that elf, pushing them forward and prodding with their endless questions. And then the running. Since they had left the cell there had been little but frantic running, slashing through the demons, jumping over corpses, and, oh, there was this thing on their hand now - an enchantment of some sort? - which for some reason allowed them to close the tears. They were able to mend the rifts, by some strange magic they had never encountered before. Why? Who the fuck knew, right now there was still some more running to do. 

The plan had been to abandon these human idiots as soon as they were out of their cell, but that idea had dissipated quickly as soon as they stepped out of their stuffy prison, and saw that giant tear in the sky, like a wound in the fabric of reality. So, grimly accepting their fate and still confused as to what the fuck was going on, they had stuck around. What else could they do? They had no idea where they even were in these mountains.

After they'd closed the first few rifts which had impressed everyone immensely, the Seeker had paraded them in front of the Chancellor. She had presented Adaar to him, like spoils from a fight. _This is the prisoner? Well, chain them!_ He was a smug Chantry fucker who had looked at them like you would at an insect. A big one maybe, but still worth squashing. And then, after all this ordeal, the woman had had the audacity to ask for their opinion. Save the scouts or go on? Who were they to decide? But they had stood up defiantly in the face of that sad little Chantry cuck and lead the team of four into the mountains. "We can’t just leave them" had seemed like a good thing to say.

So now they were all rushing down yet another slope, the very thankful, since rescued scouts trailing behind them, when the Seeker suddenly pointed to the bottom of this particular hill and shouted, _the Commander!_ At what seemed to be a human in a pretty fine predicament - that was, dozens of demons surrounding them and their few remaining soldiers. All around them were corpses in similar uniforms, mangled and burned. Was this who they were supposed to meet? Did this little detour really save people then, or just shift the death toll? Adaar felt sick all of a sudden.

One of the demons rose up above the human in the center towering over them, ready to claw into the soldier. With a swift motion of their hand Adaar froze the monster solid even from this distance. The ice was so much easier to control out here, among all this cold and the mountains of snow. The dwarf reacted instantly and fired his crossbow, and the thing, this horrible morphing Shade shattered into pieces right there in front of the man. A beautiful sight. Ice. Always calm and strong and reliable, it provided a source of safety within all the moving, shifting figures pouring out from the Fade, bringing a cold stillness and finally, some quiet.

* * *

 

Cullen looked at the snowy slope above him, still not convinced what he saw was really happening. Behind the Seeker a figure had risen from the fog, towering over the others, even next to Cassandra who was by no means weak or dainty. It was indeed horns as he now saw, and they rose from their head like two plumes of smoke above their forehead. It was also ashen grey skin, a tall, muscular build and a staff in the hands of the figure which began to appear behind her and he would not, could not believe he was seeing, though he was now certain, despite the distance and his blurry vision. _Qunari_.

Flashes of the city in ruin, in flames, came back to him. The horned giants slaughtering, burning, laying waste to the stony facade of Kirkwall. Their swords slashing, their axes cleaving, no mercy or pause for any citizen. _And you couldn’t stop them. You couldn’t do anything._ Cullen shivered and an icy panic gripped his heart. But before he could finish the thought, they were both in front of him, Cassandra shouting orders at the soldiers and something that was possibly aimed at him, but his ears were ringing, his eyes watery, burning, fixed on the giant whose outline against the sun was the only thing he could take in right now, and it was coming right toward him. _Tall, so very tall, Maker-_

Cullen gripped his sword with a quivering hand, and with a swift, blurry movement that seemed too quick for someone of such a sturdy build, the Qunari had rushed past him. They didn’t even acknowledge him and tore right into some more Shades a little further away behind him, sending a stream of icy blue crystals into the screaming husks of demons. Dumbly, he simply turned and stared as the word still rang in his head. _Qunari_. He saw the icy slivers produced from their staff, flying, slicing into the monsters, and remembered. _Mage. Saarebas._

He found himself paralyzed, unable to move or speak. The demons had fallen, and with a controlled moment of snapping their hand shut, this Qunari had...closed the rift. Suddenly, everything was quiet around them and it made him dizzy.

“Commander!” The Seeker’s voice rung hollow in his ears as he turned to look at the woman who appeared before him, frazzled and tired. “Is, is this…” he began and the words came out of his mouth like in a dream, almost sluggishly. He turned his head, and in that moment the _very large_ mage looked back to face them, staff in hand and with magic still crackling at their fingertips. On them, he saw blood glistening red and wet in the sunlight. _Mage_.

Terror struck him as he recalled his time in Kirkwall. The city had never stood a chance as the forces slashed through everything while the fierce bound, giant mages laid waste to everything he had come to call home. Cullen's hand was now gripping his sword so tightly his knuckles were painful and white.

“Yes. The prisoner, Commander. They have agreed to aid us.” The woman’s words ripped him out of his memories and left an ashy taste in his mouth, like the ashen color that covered the prisoner from head to toe, like falling from a burning young aspen tree. _Qunari_ , he thought again, still frozen in place. _Maker preserve us_.

* * *

 

Adaar turned from the last shrieking, de-materializing shrouds of demon husks destroyed by their magic; in an instant they had closed this rift successfully as well, and it was finally blissfully silent after the deafening shrieks and deafening noise from all this fighting. They realized with an uneasy feeling that the soldiers around were now gawking at them without reserve, and Adaar's muscles tensed instinctively as they gripped their staff firmly in the sudden quiet.

A quiet which was of course broken immediately by this Seeker. She beckoned them closer to herself and the other human, who stood next to her and just…glared. They now saw this soldier they had just rescued - of course no thanks were given for that - was a rather tall man, for human standards anyway, who stood up straight as his obvious rank demanded and Adaar surveyed his impeccable posture, his shield firmly in one hand, the long sword in the other - they had seen this exact stance a thousand times before.

It hit them like a wall of hot burning air, and they staggered back a step. _Templar_. It was clear in an instant. The way he stared at their staff and hands, the obvious _disdain_ , the way he seemed ready to drive that sword into them should anyone around them even think "abomination". Prickly goosebumps crawled down their neck and arms while every instinct said _run_ but they found themself slowly walking over to the two under the distrustful gazes of the other humans and stopped a few paces away to keep some distance between them because they saw the Templar tensing visibly, his sword still firmly in hand. Adaar looked at the duo suspiciously but the man did not move, and the Seeker woman seemed to be ever impatient, so they lowered their staff cautiously and stepped even closer.

“There.” The Seeker was really not much for words and simply pointed behind Adaar. When they followed her gaze, it was clear why they were all here. There, above the crater that lay at the bottom of the slope, they now saw it - the giant tear stretched over the sky; crackling, simmering, but not like the others: there were no demons pouring out of this one. It hung like an ominous shadow over this ruin of the…temple, was it? Another fucking Chantry thing they could live without having seen, but it was clear this is where the group was headed.

“What’s the plan?” Adaar tried to keep a level head while feeling increasingly irritated by the obvious stare of the second human, the Templar, and they turned to face him. He was looking up at Adaar silently and a bit vacantly, his body buzzing with electricity and tension, his sword still in hand. He stared at Adaar with a hardened look for a few heartbeats as their adrenaline levels spiked being so close to a Templar. They thought about asking what the fuck his problem was but he nonchalantly turned his gaze away wordlessly as if he hadn’t even seen them. _What the fuck._

Adaar shot the Seeker an exasperated look and the woman factually stated, “Leliana will be down there. Let’s go get to her”. More mysteries and more questions, but what could they do but follow along? The chains on their arms might be broken but this Seeker still held a tight leash on them, as did the Breach. _If I can close another one of these monster machines, let’s just do it._

* * *

 

Cullen was shaking slightly as he realized with annoyance at himself, and he could not let them see it. _Control yourself, Cassandra knows what she’s doing._ He followed her and the prisoner further down the mountain, shouting at soldiers along the way to get ready; in the corner of his eye always the tall figure. Their horns curled around their head like a blasphemous halo; first backwards in round, swooping arches and jabbing forward next to their face with two sharp spikes. He remembered the painted giants charging his soldiers in Kirkwall headfirst with their piercing battle cries and swallowed hard.

The Qunari had not attacked him or Cassandra, though they had given him an extremely disdainful look right from the start. Still, they seemed to be cooperating and for now, they apparently posed no immediate threat. _No such thing with Qunari,_ he reminded himself, gripping the hilt of his sword in his trembling hand. They were weapons, deployed by the Arishok who had no individual agendas, the only thing that mattered to them were the demands of the Qun. _Be careful_. Something was off about this one though, he thought. They were somehow different from the ones he'd encountered so far, though he could not put his finger on what separated them from the others.

Cullen suddenly realized as he was staring at the Qunari warily from behind that this was the first one he’d encountered that wasn’t a hulking, giant man. He had been wondering about that fact in Kirkwall but assumed their duties were split up and fixed in such a binary way like all of their society, so it might just have been the men who had come to the city. This Qunari was no man, though, and they seemed strangely calm and collected compared to the Arishok's forces. The most puzzling thing was their face, he realized.

He remembered the few terrifying Saarebas he had encountered, and this was obviously one of them. Qunari mages are bound, masked, controlled, their mouths sewed shut. Yet this one seemed to wander around without another one guarding them and apparently bore no scars from any former thread around their mouth or eyes. They spoke with a slight Marcher and Ferelden accent but he was not able to place it exactly. Their build was…so different from the Qunari he had seen before, sure, towering and broad-shouldered, muscular and very much tall and grey, but a little lither than the others he had seen. They seemed almost reasonable when they spoke, but he knew that was likely an illusion.

Cullen had felt himself unable to look away from the mage as they had stood beside him, and he had felt exceedingly foolish for it, because _of course_ they noticed and he was forced to look to be engaged in something else, perhaps surveying the area, but naturally there was nothing but mountains around them so he just looked at…nothing. _Maker, like a recruit that has just seen his first mage and is scared out of his wits._

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. That was all unimportant now and they really had more pressing issues to deal with. He tried to steady his hands once more, tragically failed and trotted on, his face a steely facade betraying no emotion. Duty before the self, always.


	3. You can take the man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I hope when you think of me years down the line,  
> You can't find one good thing to say  
> And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out,  
> You'd stay the hell out of my way
> 
> I am drowning,  
> There is no sign of land  
> You are coming down with me,  
> Hand in unlovable hand.

This rift was indeed different, Adaar thought. It...spoke, first of all, and in their own voice no less. Demon trickery? Adaar shuddered as they heard the words echo through the stony valley and it seemed to upset the Seeker properly, especially after their and what must have been a demon’s, the voice of what was apparently the Divine joined in. Just pieces of a conversation, no sense in them. The tear seemed to wait, linger, still fizzling with magic, no demons to be seen so far.

“We will have to open it to close it” the elf had said. “That means demons – be ready!” had been the Seeker’s shouted reply, and before they knew it, the mark on their hand was being drawn to the tear like by its own will and then, finally, the demons had started pouring out. The fights were intense even before the large demon showed up, but _of course the large demon showed up_ , and it had almost taken them down. Adaar had never seen anything like it, not even in the Fade. Horror spread over them, and the demons' shrieks, the clang of metal and the stench of death swirled around in their head.

A bright green light blinded them, and then there was nothing but pain. Searing, hot. Too hot to bear, it was pounding in their head and drowning out all other thoughts, the monsters encircling them ever closer. With a sharp sting in their chest and sweat covering their whole body they heard a faint noise, which seemed to come from far away.

Adaar cracked their burning eyes open startled and confused and tried to focus their blurry vision on a shadow in front of them. Like waking from a deep coma, they slowly sat up and squinted into the glaringly bright room. _Steady now_.

It was...an elf? Yes an elf, standing in front of them and shaking like a leaf, at their feet a washbasin and water which had been spilled all over the floor. “Hello?” Is all they managed to croak out groggily before the person fell on their knees in front of Adaar. “I beg your most humble forgiveness...I am but a simple servant, your Worship. I never meant to disturb...”

Adaar felt nauseated and couldn’t put it together why but this person seemed to be so very afraid (and was addressing them in such a polite manner, instead of screaming _Oxman_ and running off), but they were used to people being frightened by them so they did their best to steady themself and their swimming head.

Adaar tried their best to sound reassuring and calm, which was hard with their voice breaking like glass in their throat. “Don’t be scared. Tell me what’s going on please. Where am I?” This seemed to upset the poor elf even more, and they stammered something about a “haven” and "Chantry" and having to go meet the Seeker “at once”. _Great. So it wasn’t all just a dream._

After the elf had left in a scrambled hurry, Adaar looked around and realized they were indeed in a bed, inside a nice little chamber, nicer than the last ditch they had slept in for sure. Nobles paid like crap every time. _The payment!_ Oh, now they would never get that money. Great. Just after they finished this thought it occurred to them that the rest of their crew was possibly not even alive anymore, and they felt even shittier than before. Adaar tried their best to push the thought away and gingerly got up from the cot...no, _bed_. This was a real feather bed, something Adaar had not seen in a long time. _No wonder I slept through midday_.

Through the window, heavy sunshine was pouring in through wisps of clouds on the early spring sky. Early spring maybe, but there was still a lot of snow around, and they saw a frozen lake past the houses outside. Clanking and shouting were audible - there were people around. Adaar slowly walked towards the door, more confused than ever, and stepped outside.

The sunlight almost blinded them, and yet another sharp pain shot right through their head. Adaar shut their eyes firmly, trying not to fall over immediately. When they opened them again, it seemed a little quieter than a moment ago. People were gathered outside, and many were now looking their way. Hesitantly, they stepped out of the cabin and started to walk toward the masses of humans unsteadily, over to what seemed to be the largest building around here. A Chantry indeed, as Adaar realized with disdain. _Fucking hell, of course there's another Chantry involved in this mess_.

As they made their way through the crowds Adaar heard whispers about "the Herald of Andraste" and a "savior" while people viewed them with ardently glistening eyes. And then they began to truly worry about the state of things unfurling around them.

* * *

The Commander pinched the bridge of his nose. This was all far too much to handle in just one day. Plus the encounter on the mountain had shaken him more than he would like to admit. The Ambassador, though ever friendly, was incessantly chattering away about important decisions next to him and all he wanted to do was slash his training dummy for a few hours to get the restlessness out.

Just then, he heard her say "Oh, I hear them, wonderful!" and with a flourish, Josephine got up and started bustling around the large oak table doing Maker knows what as her notes were always in perfect order and needed no rearranging. The door swung open and in stepped Cassandra with the prisoner in tow, who was bruised quite badly and seemed a tad disoriented and confused. Cullen felt his chest tightening again.

Josephine of course had the first word; congratulations were poured onto them and introductions were made. The Qunari looked around at them in uncertainty and a tinge of suspicion, but they also nodded and stated it was "A pleasure to meet all of them". However, when their gaze landed on Cullen, a frown appeared on their forehead. He could only imagine his face was mirroring the expression.

Cullen felt ashamed of his first reaction upon meeting them - he'd behaved like a little boy. _You will always just be a scared little boy,_ a raspy voice reminded him. He shook the thoughts from his mind yet again and resolved to do better. Besides, Cassandra had ensured him the prisoner was most reasonable and cooperative, so he was going to hold his tongue for now and hope for the best.

Indeed, the Qunari seemed surprisingly civil and, though a little unfocused and wary, eager to help. Over the next hour or so when plans were laid out by both Josephine and Cassandra, with Cullen adding short-worded logistic prepositions and strategies he kept his eyes on the prisoner with folded arms, but this civility did not seem to change which put him at ease somewhat, but he would not risk what they had so painstakingly built up by trusting a Qunari _who was also a mage_.

* * *

At first, Adaar hadn't been able to stop laughing when the Seeker had told them the news inside the Chantry. The Herald of Andraste. _A Qunari apostate_. These people were apparently complete nutjobs. But laughing had hurt their sides immensely, as there seemed to have been a few broken ribs sustained during the fight of which they admittedly remembered very little.

Then, during the meeting with the others, they grew concerned. What was this all about? These people couldn't be serious about them staying with this...Inquisition; not as a prisoner, but as an ally? And they were to carry the title the people had come up with semi-officially? Herald of Andraste. Adaar scoffed silently as they viewed the group of humans. _What is wrong with these people?_

But when they told them about the giant tear, Breach, they called it, and all the people that had died, with demons everywhere and their mark being the only thing that could possibly stop them, there was no more laughter.

"I'll do it" Adaar heard themself say, and that had been it. Everybody seemed very pleased, shook their hand and disbanded, off to do a thousand things as the bubbly Ambassador had eluded to, and Adaar found themself dumbfounded and alone in the small room with the gigantic table, staring at their hand glowing faintly, and chuckled softly. This was madness.

* * *

They had stopped for a while after they all had reached Haven again, but now the tremors were back. Short, slight movements, and not too bad, but strong enough that Cullen couldn't pick up all the papers as fast as he wanted while everyone else had left to begin preparations, and he suddenly found himself alone with the mage. It was entirely too quiet in the room around them, and the air seemed as thick as water in his lungs.

The rustling of his papers must have broken the Qunari's chain of thought and they jerked their head up to look at him - eyes piercing and clear and deep set in their head, glowing like a dark blue lake in the pale winter sun.

"Oh," they muttered and kept their gaze fixed on Cullen, locking eyes with him. Never had he felt so uncomfortable just being looked at, Cullen thought, as he shifted from one foot to the other. The hulking mage was still sitting in their heavy oak chair which somehow seemed grotesquely small for them as their broad torso towered over the table, facing him. He swallowed, hard and unsteady. _Keep it together._

"Ahem. Herald..." he began, but got no further. The Qunari seemed slightly startled and chuckled again, a deep breathy laugh in their chest which cut him off and they both were silent again. Their clothes were strange, Cullen thought, unfit for a mage. He found himself looking at their strong, bare arms which were resting on the smooth wood as they now slouched over slightly, like someone sitting at a children's play table. Their eyes were still surveying him and he felt naked somehow.

Cullen resolved to say something. _Anything_. "Yes. It's...quite the title. How do you feel about it?" he asked, not sure to what avail, but Cassandra had pressed the matter, to which Josephine had obviously agreed, that they _must_ work together if there was any chance of closing the Breach. Besides, he could not help but wonder about the strange new addition to the Inquisition and so he was at least willing to try.

"I find it...a little unnerving" was the mage's answer. Diplomatic. Their voice was deep and smoky, with a tone that was much softer than he'd anticipated from a Qunari. He noticed the strange accent again, like a faint sing-song deep in their throat, and it seemed to carry a strange somberness with it. He could not help but smirk. "I'm sure the Chantry would agree." He chuckled now as well and the mage's expression became somewhat surprised, which turned to a sour, hardened look quickly as his smile fell. 

They stood abruptly, and Cullen startled. The Qunari was now towering over him again, and he felt his heartbeat in his throat. Had he angered them? The mage was looking down and he saw them glower at their fists while Cullen felt his own clammy hands tense at his sides.

"I should get to work as well" they stated flatly, and he was taken aback by how abruptly their tone had changed from a factual, almost amicable one to an almost hostile growl. In an instant they were out the door, leaving the Commander at a loss yet again. This was truly no Qunari like he had met before.

 

* * *

 

Everybody was always staring, pointing, whispering about them. Every day; the smith, the quartermaster, the barkeep, the Seeker and Spymaster, the Ambassador, everyone had something to say and somehow their opinion was always wanted in matters of, well, everything.

The Commander was thankfully keeping quiet most of the time, but all the people bustling around Haven and all the staring and talks, it was a lot for Adaar to handle. Everybody seemed so...pleased with them, and yet so very distrustful. Not that this was new for them, but now these people had decided to rely on the Qunari, which made them extremely uncomfortable.

There were war table discussions every damn day in the morning. Introductions to some visiting nobles usually followed; some were nosy onlookers that passed through the town and some stayed, adding to the mass of people surrounding Adaar constantly. People treated them like either a savior or a curious novelty and they felt how their nerves were beginning to become chafed raw. So, one night, rather than collapsing into bed and then not being able to fall asleep with all the thoughts swirling in their head yet again, Adaar took their satchel and left the cabin in the deep dark.

Adaar watched their breath form white clouds in the cold night air as they rounded the corners of the town carefully on their way to the frozen lake. Unfortunately, they saw guards posted at the gate so they disappeared into the dark along the wall and when they thought they were far away enough, Adaar piled up a heap of ice in front of it and climbed the palisades far away from any prying eyes.

Further off to the right they had seen the edge of a magnificent forest, to which they now came close. Adaar absolutely loved the mountains. It felt like they could take flight at any moment, the sky was so close. The air was free and chilly, and the trees called to them in the hushed darkness. So, with a few quick strides in the lingering lantern light from the town -these people were the absolute worst at keeping watch- they reached the pitch dark tree line undetected and dove in, ready for some quiet.

* * *

"What do you mean, gone?!" Cullen stared down the soldier who had been _supposed_ to keep an eye on the Herald's cabin, but apparently, a horned grey mage giant could go missing without anyone noticing in this place. He let out an annoyed grunt, told her to take her place at the cabin again and inform the Seeker at once should the Herald return.

"I believe I saw someone walking towards the forest", one of Leliana's younger recruits remarked from behind him. _Maker's tears, can nobody do their job around here?_ He snatched up his sword, told everyone to keep an eye out, keep this under wraps, and that he would be back within the hour. It was the black of night and it would cause a panic should everyone find their newfound Herald was suddenly gone. Plus, they couldn't have gone far.

He followed a narrow path into the forest, and immediately cursed himself for not bringing a torch, and for not stationing _two_ guards at the mage's cabin. _Maker, all these recruits were green_. Moments like these made him miss the rigorous Templar training. But only for a moment, before he remembered Meredith's face twisted up in red lyrium taint with a shiver.

Mercifully, the moon had now emerged from behind the clouds; making it a little easier to see the winding path and so he pushed forward through the eerily still forest.

* * *

Adaar took in the fragrant night air, the scent of pine and wild animals lingering in the pale moonlight. Finally, freedom. No one asked them what their opinion on this or that was here, no one wanted to let them in on any strategic plans, there were just the soft hoots of an owl in the distance and the wind rustling in the trees surrounding them.

Their head felt cleared instantly, their limbs refreshed and their muscles stopped aching a little in the cold night air. They mused about the strangeness of the situation they had found themself in and listened to the pine needles in the snow softly crunching under their footsteps. Not much further now.

* * *

Nothing. Cullen was about to drive his sword into a tree. He had searched for almost an hour already, but there was no trace of the Herald. Damn Cassandra and damn this whole group of fools for trusting the mage, himself included.

_Of course_ they would run off at the first opportunity, leaving them stranded and without any means to close the Breach. _Of course_ they would abandon them.

_Everybody always does, little boy. You always fail, and you always end up alone._

Cullen slowed his steps in a trance and finally stopped in the dark around him, carefully listening to the soothing sounds of the forest. _Oh Maker, not now_. _Please_. But the voice kept going; in the still of the night, there was seldom anything to stop it and he heard it drum on mercilessly in his head, taunting, mocking, spewing insults.

His breathing became short and ragged as he felt his stomach churn, and he turned and quickened his steps back to the barracks, panic rising within him slowly.

* * *

Their breath was a steady cloud of white steam in front of them as Adaar bowed down and took out their knife. With measured movements and a small smile, they cut the lush green plants to store in their bag.

Elfroot. There is so much of it here, they thought. They could use this for all kinds of potions, Adan had said they always needed more. Lost deep in thought, they gathered the elegant, thin plants in their arms.

Just a bit more, Adaar thought as they now slowly felt how tired they actually were. They could make use of this patch now that they've found it, and Adaar could teach the herbalists how to find good spots to harvest by looking for irregularities in the tree crowns and for groups of the right plants which Elfroot liked to grow next to.

Adaar let out a yawn in the still night. Time to head back soon and get into that wonderful bed. Feeling refreshed and calm, they resolved their little excursion had gone on long enough.

A low rustle in the leaves behind them made them drop the herbs in their arms and swiftly turn around, eyes wide while goosebumps rose on their neck. Adaar waited for a few heartbeats, listening. Nothing, just the wind whistling quietly through the woods. The cold crept up their back as they stared into the dark wall of trees - Adaar was illuminated by moonlight, totally exposed in the small clearing.

Another rustle was audible from the undergrowth and then, a figure emerged. Adaar quickly drew their staff, the crystal glowing bright and blue already.

* * *

Cullen stumbled out of the forest into a clearing, his mind and body numbed with the familiar dark thoughts terrorizing and racing through him, his only aim trying to get back, pacing fast.

_You're useless, you're weak and you will never amount to anything besides being a gigantic failure and disappointment to everyone, little boy. Look, you even lost the one person who might have been able to help you._

He felt close to tears, his heart pounding in his chest hard and fast and his skin crawling with terror.

"Hold it right there!" A voice cut through the clear night air and he looked up in a panic. The Qunari was right in front of him, staring him down. As he saw the mage standing before him, his frustration finally boiled over.

"You!" He took a few more fast steps towards them and with a sudden movement they swung their hand upward, the ice that had formed in it glimmering and crackling loudly already, as he realized they got ready to impale him with it.

* * *

The figure which came toward them from the woods now did not stop. Who the hell could this be, out here? At this hour? Adaar could not see the person's face against the dark forest, only that they were advancing rapidly, but they'd picked the wrong fucking mage to ambush here.

The human drew their sword and held up their shield, a swift controlled motion Adaar had seen so many times before, and their breath caught in their throat. _Templar_. Anger boiled in their stomach as they got ready to end this miserable piece of shit right there and then, but right before they could cast, the icy light in their hand illuminated the figure a little, just enough, and they finally saw their face.

"Fucking hell. Commander!" Adaar crushed the icy bolt in their hand just in time and sent sharp little slivers of it flying around the two. The man standing before them seemed at a loss, panicked, and was frozen in place, with his shield drawn up before him.

* * *

Cullen stopped in his tracks and got ready to block the blow just in time when the mage suddenly stopped mid-spell, and one moment later icy crystals covered him like light snowfall as they lowered both their staff and hand. "What on Earth are you doing out here?"

He shook the immobilizing fear from his mind and stared down the mage before him.

"You're asking _me_?!" Cullen was livid; his palms sweaty, his head pounding, the blood rushing in his ears. Adaar's eyes suddenly grew wide as they looked at him, and he realized he still had his sword drawn, ready to strike back. Only there was no strike coming from them, not anymore.

He saw the mage grip their lowered staff a bit tighter, and with a voice that shook a little, they uttered an unsteady "Commander?", their eyes shining pale in the moonlight. Cullen lowered both sword and shield slowly. Again hot embarrassment crept up in him. What was he doing? The silence hung heavy in the air as neither of them spoke for a moment.

"Have you come out here to kill me?" Cullen startled as their voice in the dead silent forest air was now thick with disdain, hatred almost. "Rid the world of another mage, huh, _Templar_?" At that word, electricity shot through him and he dropped his sword in the fresh snow to his feet as his eyes met theirs, full of fire. "What?" He felt despair fill every corner of him.

_Templar_. Like a punch in the face. He was shaking now and cursed himself for it. "No...I..forgive me, Herald." Forgive him _? They're the one who ran off in the middle of the night._ But the look on the Qunari's face left no other emotion in him but shame and regret.

They stared at him, just a few feet away now, utterly despising the man in front of them. "Fuck you, Templar." It hit him like a brick again, and he looked at them, defeated. "I am not a Templar anymore, Herald." His voice was weak and he felt a hundred years older. They simply scoffed and shook their head, still looking at him with this icy stare that shook him to his core, saying nothing. It was not needed.

"It's just...when I saw you cast I... I'm so sorry" They stood before him wordlessly for a moment, then turned and holstered their staff before they picked up some herbs off the ground while Cullen was left standing dumbly and silently, frozen in place. He dared not move a muscle.

With a slow saunter they came back up to him and locked eyes with Cullen again, their face a stony, bitter facade. "Yeah, I get it. _You can take the man out of the Templars..._ " And with a last derisive scoff, they walked past him into the forest.


	4. Everybody hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and not just sometimes.

Trembling like a leaf all over, as well as out of breath and nauseated, Adaar had reached their cabin again in the bitterly cold night. They had been running almost the whole way and their lungs hurt immensely from the freezing air they kept sucking in in short, shallow gasps. The guard who was posted outside the cabin let out a small yelp and then a surprised gasp when she saw them and stared up at Adaar with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open as if to speak but unsure about what to say. Wordlessly, Adaar stormed past her with their insides in a leaden knot, inside their room where they pleaded to whatever spirits were listening that nobody would stab them in their sleep, or worse, come to talk to them tonight.

Nobody did, however, as they lay breathlessly on their bed staring at the wooden ceiling and counting the rings and knots in it over and over, wringing their hands. Finally, the commotion and many hushed voices outside died down and moved away until there was a heavy silence. Adaar shut their eyes and felt a lump rise in their throat. _Templars_. _It's always fucking Templars._

Disgust filled them and anger roiled in the pits of their stomach as they tossed and turned and finally fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Josephine would not, or perhaps indeed could not, stop talking. And the sun had only just risen. _And_ there was no coffee, on top of all this, as Adaar noted with exhausted despair. This had been a particularly bad war table meeting so far, as it revolved around Adaar solely _,_ around and around, and it took all they had not to simply walk out and never come back. The Spymaster, together with the Seeker and the Ambassador took turns reprimanding, pleading, shouting and generally showering Adaar with disappointed looks that seared into their skin as their cheeks burned.

Adaar was hit hardest by Josephine's unending stern and diplomatic speeches, which they could tell were a thin veil concealing her anger. The other two let it reign more freely into the stuffy room and they felt like they were going mad inside it as the air lay on them heavy and hot, causing them to have trouble breathing and concentrating. Adaar was both mortified to be reprimanded like a child by these people who barely knew them, while simultaneously feeling a shameful rage fester in them as they stared at their hands in their lap wordlessly. What could they say? Adaar was still a prisoner and they had been a goddamn fool for thinking otherwise. They felt like a hostage and wanted nothing but to escape.

But the Antivan of course managed to completely disarm any anger Adaar held, when she said with maddeningly convincing determination, "Herald, we were merely concerned, we simply cannot afford to lose you.", and Adaar painfully realized she was right. After a sullen pause during which no one spoke, Adaar sighed and threw up their hands in defeat. The tension in the war room was palpable and discomforting, like cold sweat covering your whole body, and Adaar wanted nothing but to be rid of it.

Adaar cautiously spoke into the hovering uneasy suspense. "I..apologize. I did not intend to worry anyone that I would just...leave". They shook their head, rubbed their tense neck and sighed; this was definitely not what Adaar had intended by taking their little walk. _Stupid. Of course it would seem like you were deserting, you dunce. These people don't trust you, not yet. Why would they trust you, you hulking great wall of mage bricks?_

They looked up at the women from their seated position and felt like a common thug on trial. Adaar took great pains to avoid look at the Commander who had mercifully been silent throughout this whole ordeal, while they were trying their best to not be giving away any of the nervous energy that raged inside them. Their voice was breaking and trembling, but Adaar still hoped they sounded sincere. "I am committed to this cause. But I...I needed some time to clear my head with all of this going on, and I'm not used to all this, mh, attention", by which they of course meant _responsibility_ , but that would only give the four people looking at Adaar now more reason to be concerned.

Finally, after another pause of studiously surveying Adaar's entire person, they seemed somewhat placated. The Spymaster gave them a small smile and nodded, while Josephine pleaded again for them to _please_ let them know when they go on a private trip and _where_ , and ultimately suggested going back to more strategic matters that needed planning, for which Adaar was eternally grateful. Cassandra needed not say anything, she simply gave them her least stern scowl and sat down with a factual nod which meant, _back to business_.

 

* * *

 

"Recruit, will you hold up your shield! That man could have cleaved your head in half just now! Your left foot further back, you will lose balance immediately slouching like this!"

Cullen had been barking orders at the recruits all day and his voice was about to give. There were a few silent groans from the crowd of soldiers, but they did as they were told. _Useless. Utterly shameful._ Cullen was furious and determined to work these green fighters til they dropped. He could kick himself for how everything had ended last night. _You are never to raise your sword against those you serve._ What had he been thinking traipsing around in the woods alone? What if this had been another mage, a rogue apostate? They could have killed him easily in his state of stupor. Cullen couldn't help but grimly wonder why the Herald hadn't done so.

The meeting this morning had gone by agonizingly slow and he was a fool, they were all fools for doubting the Herald, but they had just been doing their jobs. Him particularly badly, however. The anger burned behind his eyes as he slashed at the shield of the recruit in front of him, his trembling hands making his movements slightly erratic and harder to control, which frustrated him to no end. "Up, again! Your enemy will not simply relent once you no longer feel like fighting!"

The young man before him was nearly out of breath, but Cullen was not about to cut them any slack. He could not undo the absolute catastrophe that had unfurled in the forest, but he could make these recruits learn how to hold their shields up, and by Andraste, he would at least do this part of his job right.

 

* * *

 

Adaar was always the first to exit the war table discussions these days. _No way I'm being caught alone with the Templar again_. Plus, they had so many things to take care of now, they scarcely knew where to start.

They were to go to the Hinterlands, to find some horse master and a Mother of the Chantry ( _oh good, more Chantry nonsense_ ), find more allies and secure resources, oh, and deal with the rebel mages _and_ a ton of rogue Templars in the area while they were at it, and their gear was in atrocious condition. So Adaar routinely fled the meetings as soon as they could, their head pounding with all the strategic information and intricate details of Ferelden nobility; they tried to keep up with Josephine's instructions on who not to talk to about whom, and all the while Leliana was needling them with questions about this and that, all very subtle and casual but no doubt intended to pry even more information out of them than what they already know about Adaar.

Under these circumstances a trip to the Ferelden countryside to fight murderous people and demons sounded absolutely fucking delightful right about now.

All that and the terrible gear meant, of course, going down to the smith a couple of times a day to discuss endless matters of weapons and armor and materials, and to try on this and that. To do this, however, Adaar had to walk past the soldier training grounds every single time.

The Commander was always there and yelling at the frazzled troops nonstop, barking orders here and there relentlessly. _"Not a Templar anymore" my ass_ , Adaar thought as they stopped at a safe distance and watched how he instructed the soldiers to block magic attacks with their shields, all with the precision of one that has been in the Order for years and years, and knew nothing else.

Adaar shivered, thinking back to the raised sword he had held in the forest. _It was just like them._ A familiar terror gripped their heart and they tore their gaze away from the man bitterly, to go and try on another sleeve of their armor instead. These people knew a lot about smithing and could even craft magical armor, but they definitely were no experts in how to fit it all to a Qunari build.

 

* * *

 

Almost giddy like a child Adaar sat on their newly acquired horse, gently swaying back and forth. Master Dennet was indeed a master of his craft, they thought, pleased with themself. Adaar had been pretty skeptical that he would find a mount for them and he had joked, in the very dry Ferelden way, about their "feet dangling on the ground while riding" but he had found a horse for them. A truly magnificent animal with a dark black coat and broad muscular chest - the draft horse was perfect for them. She was gentle and patient too, which was good since Adaar hadn't ridden since they were 12, at which point they had barely fit on the horse at the farm their family had stayed at for a while anymore.

And they had found allies, a Warden no less; another elf, who couldn't have been more different from Solas, and well...another Qunari. Quite a big one, too. Now people would likely not be happy about that, but the mercenary company was too good to pass on. Plus they had been tasked with finding allies, so, task completed.

Weary and muddy, they arrived back at Haven with the newly recruited fighters in tow; Mother Giselle had promised to come as soon as her duties were adequately passed on to another healer (the woman wasn't all that bad after all - at least she didn't just sing the Chant and fold hands like the others).

A few Inquisition stable hands were now coming up to secure the horses in the stables, so Adaar dismounted with their back in agony, thanked them and walked toward their cabin, ready to take a damn bath.

But of course, there was a nervous messenger at their side in an instant, and they all had to go to the Chantry immediately please and oh Herald it was so very good to have you back your Worship!

Adaar was dead tired, but as they looked up the gentle slope of the hill the town wrapped around, it did seem like there was some kind of commotion going on in front of the church, so with a wistful sigh they trotted toward the large building, promising their aching joints a bath would come their way soon.

As they neared the Chantry, Adaar quickly realized what was happening, and their chest tightened. A group of mages and Templars were engaged in a clamorous altercation in front of the Chantry gates with numerous onlookers around them. So far they were fighting only with words, but it was obvious the situation was getting heated quickly. Adaar stepped up ready to interfere, when a tall figure shouldered through the crowd and pushed an incited mage and Templar who seemed ready to tear each others' throats out away from each other. "Enough!" Cullen's voice boomed through the mass of people as they fell quiet. Adaar stopped in their tracks, taken aback by the unexpected interference.

"Knight-Captain-" the Templar began, still in a heated rage, but the Commander cut him off with unyielding command and looked the man down with an icy stare. "That is _not_ my title. We are not Templars any longer - we are _all_ part of the Inquisition now!" he growled the words first and ended in shouting at the man. Adaar startled at the Commander's deep, angry tone and stood frozen in place, watching the scene dumbfounded.

"Everyone, back to your stations, now! I will deal with you two later!" The Commander jabbed his gloved finger at the two men who still glowered at each other, but now seemed defeated and vanished into the already dissolving crowd. Everyone was scuttling back to their stations quickly, which soon leaving Adaar to stand alone, still muddy and dusty from their travels. They watched the Commander rubbing his forehead in a somewhat pained way before he looked up and spotted them. Adaar surveyed the tense man with suspicion. "Herald. You're back." He seemed perplexed, Adaar thought, but his aggressive posture softened visibly after a moment and he exhaled a ragged breath. Adaar mused that he seemed less like a threat now and more infinitely tired, as they remembered to breathe again while the shock still tensed their every muscle.

Drawing in a shaky breath they cleared their throat, resolving to appear in control and nonplussed. "Yes. I am happy to report we have secured many new alliances in the Hinterlands." Adaar paused for a moment, but the Commander did not retort. "Well...what's going on here?" Adaar meant their voice to sound cold and factual, but the truth was the whole ordeal had left them confused and fairly rattled, and a thousand thoughts were rushing through their head. _Did the just defend the mages?_   The Commander took a moment to respond, then shook his head slowly and replied with a brief "Nothing we can't handle, but tempers are flaring. It would be wise to address the Templar-mage conflict soon, Herald."

Adaar sighed and crossed their arms with their lips in a tense, thin line. They had seen the destruction the fighting had cost the Hinterlands and its people firsthand, but they also knew they were sitting on a powder keg with this politically charged conflict, one they were not sure to be equipped to handle. "Can I...help with anything?", they asked the man cautiously, and the Commander suddenly looked up as if they'd disturbed him in his train of thought.

* * *

Cullen shot the Qunari a surprised look. This was not what he had expected at all; rather, he'd been waiting for a speech on how he should restrain the former Templars better, and to be reprimanded about how the situation was completely out of hand, and why he wasn't doing his job. He felt embarrassed and vexed that they had seen this commotion, as it made him out to be completely unable to keep even a semblance of order in the camp.

The Herald stood before him in a defensive posture, obviously waiting for a reply and yet again, he felt wholly unfit to handle the situation. Why had he not been blessed with even a fraction of Josephine's diplomatic abilities?

"I...perhaps you could talk to the mages, Herald. Tell them - that the former Templars are not here as their enemies, that-" With a sting in his chest, he remembered the look Adaar had given him in the forest - repulsed was probably the best word, and how they'd spat out his former title. _Templar_. He swallowed his last words and cast his gaze down.

Adaar's tone was dry and distant, and he heard it like through wool in his ears. "I will see what I can do, but you must understand that these people do not have many fond memories of their former jailers, _Commander_." 

* * *

That seemed to surprise him even more, Adaar thought. Was he really that blind to what the mages had been through? That every single one had a story about the Templars abusing their power over their "charges" - those they were supposed to protect?

Adaar had never been in a Circle, thankfully. They did not doubt it wouldn't have ended well. Few had been willing to approach the Qunari family living near the forest and their weird child; they could have been having blood magic rituals every Tuesday and probably nothing would have happened. But then, of course, the mage rebellion had started. And Adaar had no longer been a child living at home at that point, they had had to go out into the world to "make a name for themself", and there, the Templars had been everywhere. _And they were all the same._

* * *

The silence between the two was both leaden and deafening to Cullen. That had not gone well. The Herald's face could have been a statue's, and their eyes bored into him now. "If that is all, I will take my leave, Commander." Cullen simply nodded slowly and defeated; what else could he do? And so the Herald was on their way, leaving him to wonder if he'd ever find his senses around them. Whenever they spoke in that dismissive cold tone of theirs, all ability to form sentences seemed to leave him abruptly and he was left a blundering mess. They also had a way of being able to destroy any resolve of his with a single look of their stony grey eyes and suddenly he was unable to hold any coherent thought in his head. And not surprisingly they hadn't taken to his suggestion of furthering peace between the former Templars and the mages.

They want to help, Cullen thought as he made his way back to his tent, dead tired. But the Herald's distrust for the Templars was deep-seated. Probably this was not unfounded at all, too. A Qunari mage - who wouldn't see an enemy and immediate threat in them? And Templars were trained to neutralize threats; they were very good at it, too.

Cullen sighed and rubbed the tense muscles of his neck. He would have to keep trying, there was no way around it. He would have to find a way to work with the Herald. 

 

* * *

 

They had just come back from Val Royeaux, where a whole 'nother shitbarrel situation had unfolded with all these Chantry folk and the Templars and the Seekers involved, apparently? And this war table meeting had been going on for decidedly too long, without any conclusion in sight. Also, naturally everybody had an opinion on the matter, just none they could agree on.

"We _must_ address the situation at hand, Inquisitor. This will only escalate further if we do not take immediate action." The Ambassador was right, of course, but no one provided any help in the matter of what _exactly_ should be done next. Adaar was close to resigning, and the others were not far behind, it seemed.

"What do you suggest, then?" Adaar was waiting for a diplomatic solution from the four - suggestions of how to avoid further bloodshed, and how to move forward with caution and a level head. Instead, they all now started throwing half-baked ideas into the room of meeting with the Grand Enchanter, or needing more support, even petitioning the Crown was in the mix, or meeting with the fucking Templars, of all people. The four were bickering back and forth until Adaar's head was swimming. Oh, they were definitely not equipped to handle this as a person.

"Enough." Adaar held up a hand, and finally the others fell silent. "I will meet with this Grand Enchanter Fiona, who was the only one who seemed willing to come to a solution and approached me herself." They were done arguing about this, with no tangible solution in sight.

"And what about the Templars?" A low voice interrupted their train of thought and Adaar snapped their gaze up at to see the Commander looking over _. Who else would this suggestion come from._

With tense shoulders and a stiff posture they met his eyes coldly and simply stated "Once they are willing to meet us after I've been to Redcliffe, we can talk. I would not have them rampaging any more than the people of Ferelden - whose houses they are burning with the people still in it, I might add, and they do not seem intent to work with us in the least, so that's it about the Templars from my side, Commander."

Adaar pressed the last words out in a hiss, then stared the silent Commander down with a heaving chest and heavy breaths of hot anger. Sometimes there were ups to being a towering, intimidating oxman and Adaar used it to their full advantage. Defeated, he only gave a curt nod and lowered his eyes, which Adaar noted with satisfaction _. That's right, shrink away like the cowards you all are deep down, you know what your brethren did - and still do_.

 

* * *

 

Cullen was leaning on the wooden banister by the frozen docks, the sun slowly setting over the icy shimmering lake before him. He was ready for some quiet in his head which was constantly rattling off a million tasks and listing another thousand things that still needed to be done, all at once. He stretched his aching back as a pleasant tiredness fell over him when he heard short, heavy footsteps approaching and turned halfway, dreading what was going to be interrupting his precious quiet. He saw it was the chatty dwarf who now came straight toward him. _Maker preserve me, I only want some peace_.

But Varric had a way of charming anyone into a conversation, even the "broody Commander" as he had come to call him, and Cullen had to admit he enjoyed their conversations most of the time. The dwarf always seemed genuinely interested to see how he was doing and also knew when it was time to leave, so Cullen groaned softly but stayed, keeping his gaze on the frozen waters.

"How's it going?" Varric came to a halt beside him and was now leaning on the banister too, He looked up at Cullen, who was genuinely at a loss of how to answer that. "Another successful meeting completed?" he went on, obviously knowing this was not true at all. "Well, in some ways." Cullen now turned his back to the lake as well and crossed his arms grimly. "Progress is progress, no matter how slow. Though I would prefer it otherwise." The dwarf chuckled his hoarse reply. "You can't just stab every problem with a sword to make it go away, Curly."

Cullen winced slightly, and hoped the dwarf had not seen it. Never would he make that mistake again. Never draw his sword like that again. _Foolish. Impulsive._ His pulse began to accelerate and a cold nausea took hold of him. _  
_

"You alright there?" The dwarf eyed him studiously while Cullen took pains to appear stoic and collected. _Keep it together._ "It's not that bad of a nickname you know. I had other choices that didn't make the cut." Of course the dwarf had noticed, he always did. _Damn it all._

"No, Varric. I.." Unwittingly, Cullen looked up at the Herald's cabin which was always in his view, always reminding him of his failure to protect who he was sworn to.

Varric followed his gaze and cocked his head slightly . "You two playing nice? I hear there's some...difficulties at times" Cullen snapped his head down to face him, his cheeks burning red. "Who is spreading such-" he started, but the dwarf chuckled lihtly and threw his hands up defensively. "Relax, it was only something Josephine mentioned. She wishes things were more civil at times, apparently". Cullen could not help but let out a small groan again, and fell back onto the banister, gripping it with one hand to steady himself.

"Well, the Herald does have certain...misgivings about my former rank, it seems." Cullen looked away from the small cabin and up into the darkening lilac sky, wishing he could be some place, any place else right now. What was he doing, discussing this with the chattiest person he knew? But to his own surprise, after the dwarf stayed silent, he kept going. "I don't know what I have done _(well except that time I almost attacked them in pitch black night)_ but they seem to have taken a dislike to me from the start."

Varric looked up with a questioning look and Cullen could have slapped himself for telling him all that. The shorter man let out a sarcastic chuckle which made him snap back, "And what is so funny?" to which the other replied, with what seemed to be an almost sad shake of his head, "Oh Curly, they don't dislike you, they're _afraid_ of you."

All Cullen could do was stare at the dwarf, and they were both silent for a while. "What do you mean? Why would they be afraid?" Varric was not making any sense and he got the distinct feeling he was making fun of him. But the other man did not seem amused.

"Think about it, Cullen, they're a mage, and you're a...well, a former, but still you used to be a Templar. You people are terrifying to mages, even if they are tall and built like a brick house and have not been to a Circle. The way they look at you, at all Templars - I know, you're not Templars any more, don't make that face. To them you still are though! The way they look at you is like a bird that has been caged looks at a cat batting at the bars from the outside."

After that it was quiet for a long time, as Cullen turned around and looked at the lake again while the light slowly faded from the skies. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach, and it seemed the dwarf had said his piece because he said his farewells for the night, which the Commander barely registered, as the other left him. _You're such a damn fool._


	5. To serve man, and never to rule over him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But I am just a broken machine / and I do things that I don't really mean

Adaar's head was still pounding, with their thoughts swimming around in blurry circles while their entire body ached and every muscle throbbed in their limbs. They were dead tired and all the while, the man next to them would not stop talking and making quips. They could feel he was nervous and probably scared out of his wits, and he made up for it by his elaborate appearance, thought through in every tiny detail, and with his eloquent speech and constant jokes. Adaar didn't mind it much. How could they? He had just saved them, probably everyone, when he brought the two of them back through the...time rift that Alexius had created in Redcliffe castle. What a ride that had been. Adaar grimly chuckled under their breath as they recalled the Magister's twisted creations in that hypothetical future. Why had it all seemed so real? Why did it still? _Because it was. Because it would have been._

"It's a risk, and very likely a trap" they heard Leliana's words echo in their mind. "We can't, in good conscience, ask you to play bait, Herald", the Commander had added, no doubt in a last attempt to persuade them to go meet with the Templars, but their mind had been made up. Time magic? All of the free mages held in captivity by this Tevinter Magister? No way Adaar was just going to look away with this one.

And so they had gotten stranded in time with this dashing mage, in a cruel and twisted version of the future which still had their head spinning. Dorian had been a steadfast companion and he'd wanted to join the Inquisition afterwards, so of course they had said yes.

The group now reached the small slope leading up to Haven, and suddenly they saw them: mages. Hundreds of them, pouring into the small town - a steady trickle of people from all directions; Adaar had never seen so many of them in one place. Cassandra and the Iron Bull were trotting behind them wordlessly, with the Tevinter mage constantly chatting on about the quaint Ferelden mountains, and Adaar felt the tension in the air with unease, shifting in their saddle.

Varric seemed deeply disturbed by the whole affair still, and for once he was very quiet as well. Adaar knew both the Seeker and the other Qunari disagreed with their decision of taking in the mages as full allies, as many others would. They let out a heavy sigh as the group approached the gates of the town, a messenger already running up to them panting and out of breath.

Adaar jumped off their horse, held up a weary hand pleadingly and handed the poor, startled woman their bridles. "Yes, to the Chantry, everyone's waiting. I got it." The scout nodded in a frazzled manner before them, bowed, and lead their horse away. Adaar felt a dull ache in their stomach as they ascended the stairs with the Seeker, who still would not speak to them, and entered the Chantry with a sense of cold dread at the back of their head.

* * *

There had been no shouting so far, but everyone seemed extremely tense. The Commander was still missing from the meeting, and Adaar was grateful for it. Logistics were being laid out before them, further steps of ensuring that the mages were properly trained to aid in closing the Breach were presented, and it all seemed to be happening to someone else, though they nodded along with every word dutifully. The tone in the room seemed artificially factual, and no one added any personal notes or chatter. Everyone took pains to skirt the topic of the mages joining the Inquisition, some with more, others with less skill, but all determined to uphold this contrived peace in a terribly terse manner.

Adaar was yanked back into reality when the door of the war room was slammed open, which made everyone startle out of their awkward, superficial talks. They all turned and Adaar saw the Commander entering the war room, with two scouts trailing behind him. He gave a few short orders under his breath and the two bowed, leaving and closing the door behind him carefully. The man looked haggard, Adaar thought. Unwell. Thinner than usual almost; he did not seem to fill out his armor and voluminous bear fur coat entirely and he was very pale, with dark circles under his eyes; his mouth a thin, hard line. _Oh, this is going to be just great_.

As if by instinct Adaar crossed their arms while everybody was still looking at the Commander, the room gone quiet. He looked up at the group, though he did not raise his head fully, and forced out a "Don't stop on my account" through his teeth, his voice carrying a faint quiver in it as Adaar noticed.

"Well, we were about to get to the matter of the new recruits, so perhaps you would fill us in on the situation, Commander?" Josephine asked, the ledger and quill always in hand, ready to take notes - proper, in control. Usually the Commander was the image of dutiful sobriety and control himself, but now he seemed slightly disjointed and beside himself.

The man, who seemed to disappear in his armor almost, drew in a long, ragged breath and Adaar noticed he was leaning on the table slightly. Was he this tired? They never did see him take a break from his work, but today he seemed extremely impatient - more than usual and, if that was possible, his words were even shorter and colder. Adaar scoffed quietly and leaned back in their chair. _Well, let's hear it then._

"They are settling in, but we are also having difficulties finding adequate room for all the mages. We will manage though. Ghaelan has been tasked to oversee the new arrivals." Adaar started at the mention of the man's name and interrupted the Commander, sitting up straight. "Wait, wait. As in... _Knight-Captain_ Ghaelan? You...you put a Templar in charge of settling in the mages?" The Commander barely looked up at them and opened his mouth to reply, but Adaar waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, you're not Templars any more. Do the mages know that though?"

They felt the anger pulling at their insides, hot and heavy like molten iron, but Leliana interfered before Adaar could continue with _"and do the Templars remember that when they see a mage? What if they see hundreds at once?"_ The Spymaster looked at Adaar intently as if she'd read their mind, and with encouraging nods from Josephine behind her, she ensured them that "Ghaelan is an experienced man and exceedingly good with people. He has a very calm demeanor, so we felt it best that he should oversee the arrivals, and instruct the former Templars in assisting the mages - as _allies_."

At this, the Commander let out an almost inaudible sigh, which nearly drove Adaar up the wall nonetheless, and all the endeavors of the Ambassador and the Spymaster to calm the situation had been in vain in an instant. They leaned over the table in front of them and stared the man down. "Would you care to share your opinion on the matter, Commander?" Again, he seemed unable to look up fully, _so fucking rude always_ , and fixed his gaze on them with somewhat labored breathing. Adaar noticed a soft glow underneath the amber of his eyes, almost feverish. _Oh, this must eat him up inside._

The Commander took a long but fairly shallow breath and spoke with his reddened eyes fixed on Adaar, his voice a raspy low tone that they slightly struggled to hear. "I am glad the matter is resolved, but I do have concerns about this alliance you struck up with the mages, Herald. These are rebels, now without any supervision, and they have proven themselves to be irrational at times."

Adaar's eyes must have spelled out murder in big bold letters, because the Commander cast his gaze down immediately after he'd said that, all in this detached, icy cold tone of his. It was obvious he did not in fact think these mages deserved to be free and _unsupervised_. Adaar growled and saw Josephine look at them with nervous unease from the side. But there was no way for them to turn back now.

"By that, you must mean _leashed_ , Commander, and by _irrational_ you must mean terrified and desperate to be free of their life-long chains. I am very sorry this inconveniences you, but they also had nowhere else to go." Now he looked up at them fully for the first time today, raising his head slowly and furrowing his brows deeply over his darkened eyes. "Yes, because they struck a bargain with a Tevinter Magister, Herald." Now there was fire in his eyes and his voice carried a faint snarl in it, almost undetectable, but they heard it.

Adaar jumped up from their chair and slammed their hands on the table, leaning forward towards the Commander challengingly. _Let's fucking go then_.

"Because they were _desperate_ and had no allies, Commander. Because everyone else had cast them out - simply because they did not want to be jailed again! I do not agree with how they handled the situation, but I will _not_ be the one to put their chains back on! Also, how do you expect them to cooperate and work with us fully if they are our prisoners?!" Adaar was fuming. There were low gasps from Cassandra and Josephine, and Leliana tensed in her chair. Adaars last words were almost spat out at the Commander, and now their hands shook a little, sweat forming between their palms and the smooth wooden surface beneath them. _Templars are all the same, always. Say it. Say they are Abominations waiting to happen. Speak, damn it!_ But the Commander just held their gaze, looking infinitely tired and weak, and nodded slowly.

"Understood, Herald."

* * *

The Commander had left after a while, excusing himself and stating there were more newcomers to oversee than Ghaelan could handle by himself, and Adaar had been too dumbfounded to say anything else on the matter to him. Had he just...agreed with them? Just like that? Adaar was unable to focus on anything the three women were discussing and mainly stared at the map during the remainder of the meeting, fiddling with their gloves under the table and agreeing with the others here and there. The air was awkward after their outburst and no one really dared to address it, trying to focus on other matters, but they could feel the disapproval oozing their way, and noted the concerned looks with annoyance.

When they were finally let go Adaar started off toward the lake immediately, wanting to see if the newcomers were being treated properly. Everybody in town was involved in getting them settled in, bustling back and forth, and it seemed to go fairly civil. Quite a few of the new additions gawked at the "Herald" and there were many whispers, but Adaar was surprised to see it all happen so smoothly. They ignored the onlookers, as they always did, but now there were a whole lot of them surrounding them. In the midst of it all Adaar now saw the Commander, giving instructions in every direction in his short, impatient, gruff way. Adaar shook their head. _Those poor soldiers. I wouldn't want to work under him - he seems a real tyrant._

But Adaar also had to admit he was welcoming the mages without much suspicion or chagrin other than his very short temper today, and the fact that he kept rubbing his temples when he thought no one was looking. _Well, he's in a proper shitty mood._

After the meeting had been concluded, Josephine had held them back and pleaded that Adaar "must find a way to work with the Commander better" and Cassandra had agreed, with the Spymaster standing by and nodding silently and solemnly. Adaar did feel a little bad for how the meeting had gone. It _had_ been a very controversial decision on their part, but they stood by it. And the Commander also had been fairly non-challenging today, for his standards. With an annoyed sigh, they walked up to the man who looked _extremely shitty and very pale in the sunlight, holy crap_ , and cleared their throat behind him.

* * *

Cullen whirled around at the noise. Not another blasted messenger or _Maker help me, if another person asks me where they can find softer sheets I will jump headfirst into this frozen lake_ , he thought with gritted teeth, but he soon saw that was no messenger behind him.

He had turned too fast however, and everything was swimming before his eyes with an aura of purple and red pain painted around the outlines. He pinched the bridge of his nose and had to shut his eyes for a moment.

Cullen heard a soft scoff and the Herald's voice, faintly and somewhat distorted. "I am probably the last person you want to see right now, but I wanted to ask how I can help. If this is too demanding for you I can speak to the man with the excellent people skills instead, if you point me to him."

He opened his eyes slowly, pain still shooting through his entire upper body, and when he looked at the Herald again he saw only a vague outline of a person towering before him. "I...there are many who need to be redirected to the temporary quarters, over toward the herbalist's hut. You could point the way and answer any questions the newcomers have. I'm sure they would be delighted to speak to the Herald in person." The pounding behind his eyes and in his ears made it impossible to discern the look on their face at first or make out a reply, but as his vision slowly stabilized he saw them nod and take off to the southward camp.

* * *

What a truly unpleasant man this Commander was, Adaar thought. Absolutely no social capabilities whatsoever. No tact, no smile for anyone, ever. Completely insufferable. But he _was_ doing a good job, they had to admit that, even if his mood was usually foul, and today even fouler than normal. Best to get away from him, and fast. _Screw these plans of working together._

Most everyone had been herded into the temporary tent quarters around the forest now, where Adaar had gone wandering off and met the Commander, or, well, _his sword_ in the black night a few weeks ago that kept haunting them. Adaar shook off the thought and let their eyes wander over the icy sheen of the lake, the late evening sun encasing everything in a faint red glow, and tried to let go of the tenseness in their shoulders. There would be more people coming in tomorrow, and they had another full day of work ahead. It was good to do something to proactively help people, though, not simply slay monsters all the time.

The mages had all been completely entranced by the Qunari, everyone had had a thousand questions and wasvery thankful. It had made Adaar extremely flustered, but everybody had seemed genuine and thankfully, there were few mentions of Andraste guiding them out of the Fade and the veracity of the story.

After Adaar believed everybody to be settled in for the night they stopped to take a break and watch the last few stragglers drift in. They were standing in the darkening meadow with the lake behind them, thankful for a bit of quiet as the cool evening winds stroked their cheeks.

"Herald." They suddenly heard a low voice beside them and groaned. Of course, it was too good to be true.

Adaar turned somewhat annoyed, and was startled to see the Commander standing a few feet away, looking more haggard than before but also a bit less irritated. They drew in a shaky breath and nodded at the man curtly, the wind softly combing through the grass at their feet. There weren't many of other sounds around them, other than the low voices from a bit further off where they had settled in all the mages, and Adaar felt a cold panic grip their heart. What was this about now?

The man came closer slowly and didn't speak for a while. He just looked at the ground between them, and Adaar's irritation with the human began to rise again after their initial surprise. "Was there...something you needed, _Ser?_ " They had no patience for the clumsy ways of the soldier, and really wanted some peace right now. "I..." he stepped up even further, still not expressing himself, and Adaar began to worry a bit, their anger fading somewhat. "Is there something wrong?"

The Commander looked up at Adaar and stated, eloquently and with a confused stammer that was so aggravatingly unique to him, "No. Yes...well, I mean.."

Adaar furrowed their brows and let out a small, annoyed sigh. How had this man ever ended up in any rank above initiate? _Fuck me, can he get to the point already?_ Adaar crossed their arms and stared the human down, their patience all but gone now.

In a motion that seemed entirely too quick for the exhausted state he was apparently in, he gripped his sword; now very close to them, closer than they liked, especially in this situation that was unfurling, and drew the long blade in front of them as the metal hissed against the leather by his side. Adaar gasped as they took a step back and unwittingly grabbed hold of the banister behind them. _No. Oh hell no._

The Commander lifted the sword, up, up, up, and Adaar starting shaking like a leaf. They got ready to run should he make one more wrong move, but the man did not swing the weapon at Adaar, he held it firmly where he stood with both hands, pointing down like a ceremonious offering, then rammed it into the ground before Adaar falling down on one knee. _What the actual fuck and hell_.

He spoke, looking down at the ground in front of him, and his voice was strangely soft and somber. Adaar did not like this one bit, and was still ready to book it, clutching the wooden support between them and the lake for dear life.

"Herald. I must beg your forgiveness. I have acted on impulse; I have let my doubts get the better of me and I have betrayed your trust. I am...shamed, to no end and I see that this is impeding the work of the Inquisition. If it please you, I will have another in my place at the earliest convenience. I'm sure Leliana has numerous resources, including someone more fit than me." He paused for a moment, and Adaar thought they saw a faint tremble in his hands which were still gripping the sword's hilt above his bowed head. "And if I have ever given you reason to make you think I am not fully behind your every decision, please tell me how I can make amends, Herald. If you would have me leave, I am gone, your Worship. I am at your command. I wish only to serve."

Adaar's cheeks were flushed and there was a ringing in their ears after he had poured the string of words out into the night before them. What was happening here? Was this some kind of joke? They looked around frazzled and panting, but there were only a few passersby staring, not enough for this to be a setup. Quaking slightly, they rubbed their neck, too flustered and nervous to speak.

The Commander did not look up, his right hand resting firmly on the grip of his sword while he was still on one knee, and time seemed to stand still, with the wind rustling softly through the forest and the lush green blades of grass in front of them. Adaar felt an intense heat creeping up their neck and swallowed dryly.

"Uh, to begin with, you can get up. People _are_ looking, and I believe they're getting concerned." The Commander still wasn't raising his head or moving though, and his only reply was, "I don't care who sees this. Let them know that I fully serve the Herald." Adaar was at a loss. "I said you can get up, _Commander_...please stand."

Adaar could not suppress a small, flustered smile, which they put down to the ridiculous weight of the situation. Now he was looking up at them, and they knew he could see it, even in this darkness. It faltered however when Adaar surveyed his face and noticed how bloodshot his eyes were. The circles under his eyes were not only very dark but also sunken in, his whole complexion pallid and waxy.

He kept his steady gaze fixed on them for a few more agonizing moments, then slowly rose to his full height in front of them as he was still standing a head and a half shorter than the Qunari, but his posture was unwavering, and for the first time Adaar strangely felt no mistrust for the man; his face seemed so genuine and void of any malice as they stood face to face enveloped the peacefully darkening evening.

"So you mean.." he started, apparently at a loss, and his eyes darted across their face in a nervous manner. Adaar shook their head and scoffed weakly. "Commander, why would I replace you? You're good at what you do. You're a good mh- leader, and you've given sound strategic advice always." _Except for the Templars_. But Adaar would not speak of this now - he looked so completely sincere, it seemed almost cruel to bring it up. Plus, he did look like shit.

The man blinked a few times and bowed his head in an earnest, almost religious manner. "Very well, Herald. Thank you. I will not disappoint you again." Adaar felt a sting in their chest as they looked at him. He was so, so pale and they thought he seemed to be in pain. It was silent between the two for a moment before they spoke.

"Commander...you don't look particularly well. Forgive me, but are you...alright?" Adaar's chest constricted as he looked up once more but quickly avoided their gaze again. "Yes. Thank you.", they heard him lie through his teeth, before he saluted and was off into the night.


	6. Is it me or is that you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is that...fluff I see on the horizon?

Everybody always had questions for Adaar. And Adaar always had to have answers. Ever polite, collected and charming, they spent their days pretending not to notice all the well-wishers and endless visitors in Haven staring at them like at some exotic animal. All fucking day it was "The Herald" this and "Your Worship" that and they missed the days when it was just them and their little group of mercenaries, wandering the wilds and crashing at taverns, passing out on the floor.

Now, there was no more sleeping on floors for Adaar, no more roaming. Josephine had made very sure of that first one, too. Not that Adaar missed the back pains that came from sleeping in a pile of people like dogs, but those had been simpler times and no one had known then who they were except "That big Qunari".

Now there were always some dignitaries to dress up for, to be clean and cheerful for, and Adaar was constantly reminded to always, always keep their magic in check _. Not everyone looks on that kindly, Herald_. When Adaar had replied that they could give a rat's ass about what some dusty human noble thought about mages, and that they were damn ready to set their minds straight, the look on the Ambassador's face was enough for Adaar to not only never bring the subject up again, but also willingly play the lapdog if need be.

Disappointing Josephine was a crime Adaar could not pay for with all the time given to them, and so they held their tongue and sat on their hands through endless meetings where they watched the Antivan perform true miracles with her diplomatic skills. In addition to the newcomers, of course, Adaar was always there for everyone. There was always some messenger briefing them on a topic that made them feel either comatose or panicked, and they could not take five steps without anyone wanting something or another, and one day, it was all just too much.

 _Fine_ , so Adaar couldn't just go wandering around aimlessly whenever they pleased, and someone had to be informed of their whereabouts at all times. This of course had them stay at Haven a lot, constantly reminding Adaar that they were just a prisoner still. Well, to get some rest from all the bustle, Adaar needed not leave the camp.

There were a few Qunari roaming Haven now - the alliance with the Bull's Chargers had brought that with them, though Adaar did not fool themself about why those burly stone-faced men were here; it was obvious those were spies. When they had talked to Adaar in Qunlat one time, watching their every movement, and Adaar had managed to answer in very bad grammar and sentence structure, both of which there were thankfully not much in the Qunari language, everyone had seemed placated a little bit. It was still blindingly obvious Adaar was Tal-Vashoth, but the Qunari had kept their distance beyond curt greetings and respectful nods after it. Such strange people they were.

But having a few more people around who were at least a little taller than Varric meant that they could perhaps go sort of unseen. Adaar rifled through their iron chest stuffed full of clothes that had been picked for them by others, which they had all stashed away quickly after dry thank-yous ( _I'm just not going to wear a ruffled dress, Josephine, face it_ ).

Way at the bottom they found what they'd so carefully collected. Adaar carefully donned the tunic they had swiped from a fairly tall human and threw on some mage robes Leliana had procured from them, which Adaar had told themself they would never be seen in until they died, since it made them look like a grotesquely looming Chantry cleric giant, but for this occasion, it would do. At least it hid their face nicely. Adaar finished this sneaky look with the Inquisition's signature scout hood, also stolen from some human. They felt a little foolish, but a rush of adrenaline still surged in their veins when they viewed their shrouded form in the floor-length mirror, turning from side to side. They looked so _anonymous_. The horns _were_ a problem, Adaar realized, but they managed to wrap some cloth around them to obscure them further; they were not the gigantic wide set kind Bull had, anyway.

The getup looked a little strange, sure, but there were all kinds wandering Haven these days. And to Adaar's immense relief no one seemed to care a lot about what they were doing for _once,_ after they had left the cabin through the back window. At first, they were afraid someone would spot them right away, but none of the people who were bustling through town seemed to pay them much mind. Everybody was busy with some task or another and no one saw the Herald now, they just saw another big mage weirdo, nothing that was illegal anymore.

Adaar marveled at the peace that was to be had in this town when no one recognized your face. There were a few 'out of the way'-s but most people still yielded to the tall stranger, if a bit more gruffly now. And there was such juicy gossip to be heard when no one saw the Herald approach! Adaar learned nothing of great importance, but apparently, the kitchen maid had a thing for big hulking Qunari men such as Bull, and some Chantry Sisters evidently found the Commander "dashing", to which Adaar quickly changed their course away from the Chantry and toward the tavern; this was definitely not something they needed to picture. It was slowly getting dark, which helped with the skulking, but their horns now started itching immensely under the many layers of cloth, and it was hot and sweaty under there, so they resolved to get out of this getup sooner rather than later.

Adaar headed out toward the lake to watch the stars come out over the water in peace for once _,_ after they felt they had done enough creeping around, and found that the soldiers were still training at the camp. They stopped outside the gates, leaning against the warmed stone surface of the town's wall, and shook their head at the scene. _The Commander really does not cease to work, ever_.

Adaar chuckled softly as they watched the poor recruits jump back and forth before the man, and with no small amount of surprise they realized that mages had joined the training, and that the Commander himself was overseeing it. They watched for a while how the soldiers parried while most of the mages stood around looking a bit lost. A woman in full armor passed Adaar, giving them an odd look, and they realized how exposed they were out here. Adaar casually pushed away from the wall and turned, now eager to move to less conspicuous areas, lest someone should spot them.

"Recruit! Over here!" The Commander's voice boomed across the yard. That man really did not lay off these poor soldiers, ever, Adaar thought to themself chuckling into their hood. _Thank fuck I don't have to train with him_. Behind them, the Commander kept shouting at some poor soul impatiently, so they quickened their steps - enough excitement for today, they needed some quiet.

"Hey, you." someone gave Adaar a quick shove by nudging their arm rather roughly, not something that happened often. Adaar stopped in their tracks, turning around both confused and a little irritated. "He means you, dummy!" A young soldier was looking at them intently and pointed behind Adaar. "Huh?" Adaar felt a little shiver creep up their back in the oppressive heat of the thick cloth.

They were about to just keep walking and ignore the incredulous stares from the woman before them, but it had gone suspiciously quiet around Adaar. "The Commander! Get going before he plants a boot up your ass!" with another shove she pushed Adaar (which admittedly did not achieve much except irritate Adaar further) toward the training grounds. Reluctantly, Adaar turned and saw the mass of mages and soldiers, who were now all looking over. _Great. Just perfect._

Adaar let out a soft groan and hesitantly took a step forward with heat creeping up their neck, making their way toward the gawking crowd. In their midst stood the Commander, who had his arms crossed and was glaring their way. He was unmoving like a statue, raised above the peoples' heads with the rays reflecting off the lake encasing him in an orange glow. Adaar felt their stomach sink as they slowly moved through the crowd. Most people had stopped fighting, and almost all had their eyes fixed on them now. This was not good.

The Commander shifted from one foot to the other impatiently, his mouth a thin, disapproving line. "Before the sun comes up again, _if you please, recruit._ " Soldiers were chuckling next to Adaar while several mages were staring and whispering. _Fantastic_. _Good job skulking around undetected Adaar, you absolute fucking idiot._

Adaar tried to come up with some kind of plan to get out of this mortifying situation, but they found their head to be completely empty, and soon they were in front of him as he was looming over them on a wooden platform from which he was overseeing the training - which had now all but stopped. Everybody wanted a piece of this drama and people were watching intently from all sides.

"Uh..." was all Adaar managed before he started laying into them. "What do you think you're doing, recruit - having a nice little stroll? Why aren't you in your assigned training grounds? You're wearing the gear."

Adaar looked down at themself and their stupid mage robes. _Fuck._ _This was not as great a plan as you thought it would be, huh?_ Above them, Cullen shook his head, placing his hands on the pommel of his longsword firmly. Adaar's throat closed up and their head felt like someone was hitting it with a hammer repeatedly. Sweat was running down the small valley in the middle of their chest where the thousand layers of cloth didn't cling to their skin.

They stared up at the man who rose into the evening sky feet just a few paces before them and felt their heart pounding hard and fast. He loomed over them, tall like a tree and broad like a boulder, and Adaar thought he'd never seemed so present, so vivid in their mind as he did now, almost larger than life. He exuded command and commanded respect, his rank one with himself. Was this how people usually saw him? Adaar got to see the man as a different person normally, calm and quiet, respectful toward them and almost soft at times. Now he seemed more like a wild beast, and Adaar felt fear grip their every muscle.

The Commander scoffed at Adaar. "Well, lucky for you we were just about to enter a joint mage-soldier training. Care to partake, recruit?" Before Adaar could say _oh hell no,_ the man jumped down from the platform, lithe and brimming with electric strength like a mountain lion, and in an instant he was in front of them, the crowd around the two parting just a little too eagerly. With a swagger that Adaar had never thought him capable of, he moved closer toward them. Apparently, the Commander of the training grounds was a very different person than the man they'd gotten to know so far.

He glowered at them, his posture straight, his face hard and unyielding. "What's your name, recruit? Don't just stand there slack-jawed." Adaar's mind felt like jelly. "Uuh, Becky?", they heard themself say and cringed under the many layers of cloth. _Becky? Really, Adaar?_ The Commander raised an eyebrow but other than that, his face still betrayed no emotion. "Alright, recruit...Becky." He stepped up even further, looking them up and down, and Adaar might as well have been naked, they felt he could see right into their soul. Still, he didn't seem to recognize them.

Time stood still around the two as Adaar studied the glinting metal ornaments on his broad chest, the little straps that held his armor together. It seemed like he was sewn into this unyielding exoskeleton of his and if only they could undo those seams, he would turn into the calm, collected man they knew from their meetings again. But they also saw a strength underneath all the metal, leather and cloth and even in his face, framed by the lush fur of his coat, that seemed unfamiliar to them. It was raw, somehow. Primal. And it scared the shit out of Adaar.

Who was this man? No one they knew. _Can't you see me? I'm right here, please see me,_ Adaar pleaded in their panicked mind. But the Commander's face lacked any recognition. Adaar's gaze was absently fixed on a scar that ran across his upper right lip - this was what made his little smiles so jagged and lopsided, in the small instances you got to see them. There was a frown on his face which made him look iron, unyielding and cold.

"I assume you have completed your Harrowing?" Adaar startled and panic bubbled in what was left of their brain as they stared into the man's eyes. S _hit_. They knew next to nothing about the Harrowing - this would not end well. Everyone was looking at them now, and the world seemed to have stopped revolving. "...Yes?" Adaar felt dizzy. They could just walk away. What was he going to do, stick his sword in them, a perfectly innocent recruit? But Adaar did not move and so the Commander nodded once, factually and unforgiving, making Adaar feel like they were a child again. The man before them looked more imposing and in control than they'd ever seen him, and they did not like it one bit.

"Well good, so you know how to fight, then. Let's get started." _Oh fuck oh shit oh no oh hell no_ was all that was going through Adaar's head, but the Commander had a look on his face that said he would not be dissuaded. Also, they could not back out now, lest they make him _and_ the freaking Herald of the Inquisition look like two absolute incompetent fools. So they said nothing of the sort, and he continued, mercilessly. "Can you cast a shield?" Hearing this, Adaar felt a wave of relief wash over them, and finally found their footing again. That they could do. Adaar cast a mean barrier, and this way at least no one would get hurt.

Reluctantly, they stepped back a few paces as the Commander instructed with his impatient gestures, and drew a small barrier up in front of them, wondering where the hell he was going with this when he unsheathed his sword, quick as lightning, and took a swing at them. Adaar was so startled at first they almost let their shield right down again. _Holy. Crap_.

Adaar could tell he was holding back, but the man had a ton of force and, thankfully, also control in his sword arm. His sword hit Adaar's crackling barrier as sparks of lighting shot out around the two, and was now stuck firmly in the hissing magical force shield. Small gasps were heard from all sides, and Adaar felt like they were sweating blood. "Not bad." Cullen wedged his sword out of their shield but Adaar kept the barrier up, pure terror in their eyes, which thankfully no one could see under the many hoods and wraps they were wearing.

"This, recruits, is why mages are so hard to fight even in close combat. Unless you break through that barrier, there is no way for you to touch them." Turning to the side, he addressed a group of pale-faced newcomers. "Now mages, you will want to work on keeping that barrier up at all costs, until you can put some distance between you and the fighter, and cast. Let's try that again; watch carefully how the barrier will disintegrate after a while, which is when you can go into full combat with them." Adaar's eyes widened. _Oh fuck no Commander, not today, not here, not now._

"Recruit, keep your shield up now." They fully intended to do so, as the next blow which he sent down on Adaar came just a little quicker than they expected, and was almost enough to break through. _Fuck_ he was strong. They'd never seen him fight before, Adaar realized, not up close like this, and it was truly terrifying.

The Commander kept slashing at the barrier, which Adaar intended to keep up with all their might, but after a while they realized that the recruits were getting a bit restless and started whispering around them. They were coming close to breaking cover or, even worse, embarrassing the leader of their forces, so Adaar let the shield die down just a little bit, and the man saw his chance immediately.

He still wasn't coming down on them full force, but Adaar's blood froze in their veins nonetheless when the sword sliced through their barrier cleanly and halted just inches above their arm. He was completely in control of what he was doing, it was clear, but all Adaar wanted to do was run away crying and screaming. The Commander withdrew the sword again swiftly, with many new gasps from their audience, which had grown quite a bit since they started, and nodded, seemingly pleased.

"Good. Now, I also want to demonstrate how to block a mage's attack with your shield, because your enemy will not just stand there doing nothing. Even when their barrier is up, skilled mages can still cast, and they can do so from any distance, make no mistake." This was a man who spoke from experience, and it made Adaar shudder. "Recruit Becky. Cast at me, so I can demonstrate how to properly block it and-"

Adaar was ready to be done with this. With trembling hands, they sent a small icy sliver toward the Commander, definitely not enough to hurt anyone; it was more like a child's snowball, but he instinctively drew his shield up and dropped down behind it with the grace of a cat, blocking it instantly.

"What in blazes do you think you're doing?!" He was standing again, furious, and Adaar suppressed a grin under their hood.

"Well, Commander, _skilled mages_ will not wait for you to finish talking in a 'real' fight, either, so let's get to it", they drawled in their best imitation of a deep Ferelden Hinterlands accent. The man was fuming now, and to their horror, he had his sword drawn again. "Very well, recruit. Have it your way then." He raised his shield again, and "Becky" felt terror creeping up their arms and back. _Fucking idiot. Shouldn't have done that._ Adaar put a barrier up between them again, their fingers feeling numb.

For what felt like an eternity, they were circling each other, Adaar casting minor snowballs and the Commander stepping toward them from time to time to slash at the barrier, without too much force behind his swings, as they could tell. "Are you holding back, recruit? Please, not on my account!" There were chuckles in the crowd again, and Adaar heard themself snarl back "Are _you_ , Commander?" and could've kicked their own head in right then, because now there was fire in the man's eyes.

Adaar cursed softly and strengthened their shield, and just in time, because he suddenly _lunged_ at them. It almost shattered their eardrums when his sword collided with their magic. They hadn't been in a fight this close in a while, usually keeping their distance or freezing enemies solid while rushing to a safer spot, and they had seldom seen anyone with such determination and unwavering concentration in their eyes as the Commander right now. And this was only a mock fight. They staggered back, and, in a slight panic, drew up a small ice wall between the two. This seemed to startle him a little bit, which gave Adaar a moment to regain composure. "Don't fight defensively - attack, recruit! You won't have time to dance around with your enemy all day in battle!" _  
_

_Very well_. Adaar lifted a hand. The Commander saw it coming immediately, ducking behind his shield, and they sent a stream of sharp ice crystals his way, not enough to hit anyone around them, as everyone had assumed a safe distance from the two anyway, but people did jump back now regardless. Adaar did not relent; they wanted this to be over, but it was also somewhat satisfying to see the Commander struggle to stand his ground.

Finally, they saw him waver just a bit as he was slowly losing his footing, his shield giving way to their magic somewhat. Adaar was pleased at first, but slowly looked up as they realized everyone had gone very quiet all of a sudden. They realized that perhaps the people should not see their Commander be beaten by a _bloody green recruit_. But it was too late, as the Commander seemed to be falling now, so they snapped their hand shut in a panic and let their barrier down, running over to him. "Comman-"

Adaar was cut off, as in an instant, he was up again and in one smooth motion, his sword drawn for the kill, he was suddenly charging toward them as Adaar stood with their mouth hanging open like they'd lost all sense of their body. They managed to draw up a weak barrier, but he cut through it like nothing and they both toppled to the ground, the Commander hacking at the remaining shield until it was gone, his muscular arms entirely too close to their face, and then his sword was at their throat.

They felt their whole body go numb, and all strength left their arms which now lay uselessly by Adaar's side. The Commander was pinning them down with his legs, the cold steel of his sharp, polished sword next to their vulnerable skin. His gloved hand was gripping the hilt of his sword in an iron fist, and his other arm was close to their face, like a rod someone had rammed into the ground below them. The cold, wet grass nestled around their arms and Adaar felt the Commander's smooth breastplate push down into their torso, slowly cutting off their air supply.

He was on his knees above them, and Adaar was entirely too aware of his thighs right next to their legs, on top of their hips, and they felt nausea gripping their stomach. It was like a tree had fallen onto them. They knew they were strong enough to push him off, but every muscle was frozen tense and useless in their panic. There was a heat emanating from him that felt like smoldering coals were about to burn right through their clothes. He was panting hard and fast on top of Adaar and looked like a wild animal that was about to rip into his prey. His amber eyes were hard and piercing, and seemed to dig right into Adaar's brain, rendering them completely motionless.

"...And that is how you defeat a mage, recruits. Perseverance. They cannot cast forever and eventually-" His voice trailed off as the Commander's face darkened, his breath caught in his chest for a moment. Cullen's eyes slowly grew wide as he stared down into Adaar's face closely for the first time, a slow horror creeping over his as realization dawned about who was lying below him. He stammered a few syllables, now apparently frozen in place. When Adaar finally removed the stuffy cowl from their head, utterly defeated, he dropped the sword into the grass next to them with terror in his eyes, and rose to his feet instantly.

The crowd began murmuring and a people gasped as Adaar sat up, mortified. He stammered again. "You...your Worship, I-" It was way too quiet around the two of them. Adaar shook their head and finally felt their limbs again, which were now tingling with electricity. They held out a hand, which he quickly took to help them up, still staring wordlessly, and Adaar looked around into the empty faces of the soldiers, who looked like they had just seen the Empress of Orlais dance with a pig.

No one dared say a word as the two of them stood in the cold, encroaching darkness. "Well...that was...good exercise to never underestimate your opponent, recruits. Always keep your guard up and always go in for the kill." Adaar felt like an utter fool, but they had to say _something_.

"Herald." The Commander raised a fist to his chest with a small bow of his head and had apparently _finally_ regained composure. "Indeed. Recruits, I hope you learned something, and I hope you were watching." _Of course, every damn soul in the camp and the kitchen mice were watching this, Commander._ Adaar had trouble breathing, their vision blurring and their head swirling with embarrassment.

"I believe that's enough for today. Everybody to your quarters - we will continue tomorrow." The soldiers gawked for a moment longer, gave the two some short bows and slowly wandered off to their camps, shooting glances back at them. After a while, Adaar and the Commander were alone by the lake, and neither of them spoke.

Suddenly, Cullen let out a hoarse gasp and looked at them in horror after he'd stared at his feet for a while. Adaar looked up at the man questioningly, their cheeks still flaming red. His eyes were wide, almost panicked. "Are you...are you alright, Herald? Forgive me...I would never have, ever, and that after I swore I would - if I'd have known it was you.." Adaar relaxed their shoulders a bit as they saw the man who stood before them and shook their head with a light scoff. How different he suddenly looked. His hard demeanor was gone now, as was the threatening posture and imposing stance. He almost looked a bit smaller than he had before, Adaar thought as their chest constricted again in the oppressive quiet. 

"No, I, I'm fine Commander, do not concern yourself. You did bruise me up a little, but I know you would not hurt one of your recruits." He seemed electrified and ready to snap as he stood before them, apparently not daring to move a single muscle. "Never, Herald, and never you, Maker, I-" And as he looked at them with his warm eyes, which now seemed infinitely softer and like pools of dark honey in the pale light of the evening, Adaar felt their fear wash away slowly. He looked so vulnerable all of a sudden and Adaar felt a strange warmth spread through them. He seemed almost a different man now. As he stood before them, meek and passive, like a boy who had just broken something valuable, Adaar relaxed again for the first time tonight.

Finally able to breathe again, Adaar gathered their thoughts as they looked down for a while - they felt terrible about all this. "I...Commander. I did not mean to embarrass you in front of your recruits. I am so sorry." He shot them a quick, surprised look and after a moment of silence, his whole demeanor changed slowly, as silently and hoarsely, he chuckled. Adaar was so startled, they found themself unable to continue. They could not remember ever hearing the Commander _chuckle_.

"Well, they _did_ just see me best the Herald of Andraste in battle so I'd think you've done a lot for keeping the order in my camp just now, your Worship." Adaar's head snapped up. "You're not..angry?" Their heart pounded in their chest like a hammer as they thought of his arms pinning them down, laced with steel ropes. "Angry, Herald? I...oh, I mean I was at first, I could not figure out why one of my newest recruits was so damn good. I began to think I'm getting old." He almost laughed the last part, a light, warm voice they had not heard from him before, and Adaar did not trust this easy mood at all.

But when he was smirking at them lightly and with infinite exhaustion, they let some of their defenses down, foolishly, as they reprimanded themself immediately, but they could not help it. "Besides, it was me who insisted you came to train with us, so you were merely being polite."

Now it was Adaar who chuckled, if a bit dryly. _No Commander, I was just ashamed that you had caught me skulking around the camp like a lunatic._ "My pleasure", they managed finally. "In addition, I did not notice that your head was gigantic and strangely shaped for some reason." he scoffed again, but immediately looked mortified. "I mean, Maker, I meant only-" He blushed a deep crimson red and Adaar raised a hand in defeat, shaking their head with an embarrassed smirk.

It was quiet for a moment again, which Cullen broke when he looked at them and in the same strange soft voice, now almost hushed, asked, "You were holding back, weren't you?" Adaar locked eyes with him and felt the heat creep up their ears again. "Only a little anymore, in the end."

To this he just smiled, the tiniest crooked smile on his face, and they felt a strange tingle in their chest. "I mean, I would of course never try to harm you, either, Commander-" _Fucking hell_ , they were truly making an absolute fool out of themself, and all that in these blasted Chantry Sister robes.

His face took on a strange expression they could not describe, but it mirrored the quiet, almost warm voice he spoke in now and it made them very uncomfortable. "Well, would you care to repeat this some time?" Adaar was filled with panic again instantly. "What?" They studied his face, and saw none of the hard man they usually came to face when talking to him. "I think it would be good exercise for the recruits. And for me. Who better to learn from than from you?" He sounded almost sheepish in the end, and Adaar felt that tingle again, this time deeper in their core.

"I - if you think it will help the recruits, of course. I...will come in more appropriate gear next time. I hate these damn robes." They looked down at themself and scowled in exaggerated anger. He seemed to be suppressing another small smile, but failed part way through. "Very well, Herald. I look forward to it."


	7. Bad priestess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the sunlight plays its games along your eyes  
> And it has the same effect on a thousand other guys  
> And I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel the pull, too  
> But the sunlight makes me strong and I know about you  
> Bad priestess

Cullen sighed wearily as the late moon crept over the lake before him, his body a miserable knotted ball of strain and exhaustion. In the back of his head he felt the familiar, dull ache of longing - a perpetual reminder of his weakness, like the jarring, lingering aftertaste of bile on your tongue when you've gone hungry for too long. It tugged at his insides constantly and macerated his ability to concentrate, a hole inside him that he was painfully aware could never be filled again.

Somehow it was always worse at night, when the weight of the day had depleted his energy far enough that nothing was left of him but a brittle cast of his self. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to focus on something, anything else but the throbbing, pulsing urge to use. The hour was getting dark and he was so very tired, but the reports and requests came streaming in every day and he had to take the time to work through them.

 _Maker's breath._ Cullen groaned as he read through the seemingly endless paragraphs detailing every one of their endeavors. He knew he would never be as good as Leliana at noticing the subtleties in them, which he was sure were of great importance, nor would he ever be as interested as Josephine in remembering the many constant changes in politics, but still they both kept sending him updates, expecting him to keep up with their progress, and the recruits were always clamoring for more this or less that and diligently filed reports on the fights in the Hinterlands and other strategic updates.

He rubbed his burning eyes with the back of his hand. Today had been strange, exhausting and long, but through all his fatigue he still felt more alive than he had in a long time, and it showed him yet again what he was really made for: fighting. The adrenaline still rushed through his system, keeping him wide awake now despite his lack of actual energy. Cullen put the stack of reports down for a moment, letting his view wander over the shimmering ice in front of him, and further away to the steep slope of mountains in the distance. Behind him, horses were whinnying in their stables quietly and he felt like he should be at peace in all this quiet. Still, his thoughts were racing back and forth, and always away from the reports.

His heart had almost stopped when Cullen had seen who he was about to tear a new windpipe opening into, and initially his mind had not been able to register the facts laid out before him. Like seeing through dark, murky waters he had slowly recognized the face before him, unable to connect the dots at first, the only certainty in his mind for a few heartbeats had been those deep blue eyes with their grey icy shimmer hidden behind all that cloth, looking up at him and right through his head, into the most vulnerable spot in his brain. He shivered in the cool breeze and wrapped his coat around himself a little tighter. In his mind, he had torn himself apart a thousand times already since the incident.

A soft breeze whirled up a cloud icy crystals on the frozen water's surface, and he saw the look in the Herald's eyes before him again. They had not resisted; they could've killed him for his insolence if they'd pleased, but they had only looked at him with that perplexed, wounded look and shown no inclinations of fighting back. Their face had been closer than ever before in that moment, and as realization crept in, he'd noticed the peculiar grey shimmer in their eyes again, cold and remote like that icy sheen on the lake in the moonlight. Those eyes still looked at him now as he watched the snow drift across the lake; blue pools of deep, somber energy which seemed so strange and foreign, and yet they carried a feeling which was so very familiar to him: sadness. A profound, deep wound was laid bare before him which he'd never noticed before, but a person's eyes never lied, and he'd seen it plainly in that moment.

He realized now that it had always been there, he had just been unable to place his finger on the emotion which seemed to burn within the Herald at all times, even when they raised their voice in anger, or the few times he'd seen fear in their face - that pain always lingered in the back. He felt a chill surrounding him, and he recalled thinking they'd seemed cold and distant at all times. Maybe there was more to it than that, Cullen mused, maybe it was a barrier they erected between themself and the world, because he'd seen a deep hurt in those eyes at that moment, a hurt that was very well known to him, and that stemmed from one thing only - broken trust.

Cullen felt a pang of unbearable remorse thinking back to how easily he had been blinded by their disguise. How could he not have realized who it was under those mage robes? Who else would pose such a formidable foe but the Herald themself? Embarrassment crept up inside him and gnawed at his entrails. Maker, he was such a fool. Cullen turned the event over in his mind again and again, from every angle. It had definitely not been his finest moment, and all the recruits had been there to witness it, together with, _Andraste_ , the Herald. Cullen buried his face in his hands, hot humiliation burning on his cheeks.

No matter how often he replayed the scene in his head, he could not get over the fact that the Herald had not been angry afterward, they had not screamed or reprimanded or dismissed him from his station, as they ought to have. He could slap himself for not recognizing his superior, his charge and master right away. Admittedly, he had never seen them fight before, other than at the mountain near the Temple of Sacred Ashes the first time he'd met them, and he knew now why they'd been so successful.

Talented, fierce and magnificent were only a few of the words that came to mind when he thought of Adaar and their little mock fight. And they had agreed to do it again. _Maker, sometimes I am not sure why I am blessed with such luck_. They should've told him to go to hell afterward for being so insolent, for breaking his promise to never raise his weapon against them so briefly after he'd given it, but they had not seemed vexed in the least - maybe a bit shaken, but they had been calm and forgiving, and even asked if _he'd_ been angry. He did not deserve any of this.

Cullen ran a hand through his hair; it felt rough and there were many loose strands pointing every which way. He needed a bath. First thing tomorrow, he told himself; now it was time to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He glanced up at the Herald's cabin and was glad to see the windows were dark already. At least they were getting some rest. Cullen knew he worked too much, slept and ate too little but it was all for the Inquisition, for their cause and of course, for the Herald. He simply could not afford to let them all down, though he seemed to be doing so continuously.

With limbs that felt like they were encased in lead, Cullen finally collapsed onto his bedroll in the cold, silent tent. It would take a while to warm up, but he did not mind it. He eased his back into the woolen comfort that shielded him from the cold, hard ground and tried his best to let go of the tension in his muscles. The air inside his waxed canvas shelter was not much warmer than the chill around it, but he was used to sleeping outside.

It had been a while since he'd had an actual bed to lie down in, and whenever he did have the opportunity to sleep inside he kept the windows open, otherwise the heat seemed to be suffocating him in his sleep. It's what he used to do at the Circle, when he'd still been a young recruit, and he mused that the habit must have formed there and stayed with him. He recalled how the soft beds in the circle were, how nice it would be to actually sleep in one and... _oh no_. At once, he felt all traces of sleep fall off of him as a jolt of lightning went through his head.

A thousand memories poured into his head again, like so many times before - of her, of the way she'd smiled at him from across the corridors and how he had longed to talk to her, to touch her, in his naive youth, but of course that had been impossible. The pain still felt fresh like it had all those years ago, and his memories still haunted him - they probably always would, though he did not feel the same about the Hero of Ferelden anymore. That had been a lifetime ago, and he'd just been a boy then. Additionally, the pain associated with those times was too much to bear for him to long for those feelings, or for her.

He forced himself to stop tossing and closed his eyes, trying to breathe steadily. When there was nothing to distract him or keep him busy, the voices came rushing right back into his mind, he'd found. The demon and its enticing promises, first of all, and with it all the panic he'd felt, just as fresh as the day he had been locked into that cage; the weeks of torture afterward - it was just as if it had happened this day.

But today, something else crept into his mind as slowly, surely, a warm and strong calm broke through. It spread from behind his forehead toward his arms and slowly to his middle, where it settled and finally allowed him to breathe freely again. Before him in the dark he suddenly saw the Herald, clear as day, like a candle had been lit next to him. His insides constricted and a shiver went through his chest as he recalled their face when they had...smiled at him. It had only been brief and as soon as it had flashed up their face had turned into a scowl right afterward, but it seemed to be burned behind his eyes now.

He knew the Herald hated him, they despised his past as a Templar and they mistrusted him. All he usually got were cold stares and disapproving scowls together with angry words, but in that moment he had felt none of the icy hatred. Cullen felt a warmth settle in his stomach, a rather unfamiliar sensation, and he was endlessly glad when he thought back to how it all had ended today, relieved. Like a weight had been lifted off his chest which had been there since the whole Inquisition endeavor had swirled into his life, and which had gotten only heavier after he'd learned the Herald of Andraste was a _Qunari apostate_ who would be working with them.

It felt like things would maybe not be so impossible as he had thought; he knew they would never fully trust him, but maybe if he could facilitate his soldiers improving their fighting when the Herald agreed to work with him, _Maker_ , he would feel like maybe he had done a small part of his duty to the Inquisition, which so far had been fulfilled to a minimum at best.

Cullen turned to his side again, it was impossible to find sleep in the whirlwind of thoughts that rushed through his head right now. He wanted to work together with the Herald, all he wanted was to serve and fulfill his duty, but his clumsy speeches and his temper and his own distrust had hindered so much of it. He was looking forward to fighting with them again; this was something he _could_ do, and it would go very differently the next time, once he knew who was in front of him and how he had to act. Respectful and proper this time, he reprimanded himself. _I may never be worthy but I must try my best_. And with a prayer in his head, he finally drifted into sleep.


	8. And as it turns out, I'm not ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tried to brace myself  
> But you can't brace yourself when the time comes  
> You just have to roll with the blast

Adaar was pacing up and down in their cabin, fidgeting with the hem of their tunic. Their sweaty palms and elevated pulse left no doubt about how nervous they were, but they stayed determined to go through with the plan nonetheless. _Just slip in and out and no one will even notice._ The idea sounded good in theory, but fear now reared its ugly head, clenching its fist around Adaar's heart anyway. _People will not judge you_ , Adaar kept telling themself in an unconvincing, yet stubborn mantra. _Some might even be happy to see you there._

The people of Haven had been clamoring for a real Chantry service from Mother Giselle for a while now. Andrastians were always so keen to worship in an orderly fashion; in the right place and at the right time, Adaar mused. It seemed a fairly weird and somehow forced, especially for someone growing up Tal-Vashoth and without faith.

Still, Adaar found themself curious to see one of them. Curious, yes, but also highly uncomfortable with the concept. It wasn't like humans had ever been happy to see them inside a Chantry, let alone when a service was conducted, so they had never been part of one. Plus, there were usually _Templars_ there, so yeah, no dice so far. Somehow, they had gotten it into their head to change this now.

Adaar stopped their frantic pacing to stand in front of the half-opened window for a moment, listening to the birdsong outside. Spring was coming onto the world full force now, and there were flowers blooming in the fresh sunlight everywhere, strange mountain varieties which were largely unknown to them. They wrung their hands looking at the peaceful scene, unable to make up their mind. Sure, it _will_ be immensely uncomfortable, holier-than-thou and stuffy, suffocating even. But it _also_ would be interesting to see what all the fuss was about.

 _And it might have made him happy_.

After trying to force themself to breathe deep a few times which was largely unsuccessful, Adaar turned and started toward the door, their hands clammy and shaking slightly. _Fucking get a grip, Adaar. It's not like you're headed to your own sentencing_. So why did it feel so much like they were about to receive the judgement of a life time?

Cursing under their breath a few more times ( _best to get this out of your system before entering the Maker's fan club meeting my guy_ ) Adaar slammed the cabin door shut behind them and made their way to the large, imposing building at the edge of the mountains, their legs fueled by nervous energy only. The service would have started a while ago, so this might be a good time to get in and out unnoticed. Or so their theory went.

There were not a lot of people out in town, as most were obediently participating or watching the service. This lip service was apparently supposed to give everyone hope. That's something Adaar did not expect to find in the Chantry now or ever, but the image of that face burning in their mind, with eyes grey and somber and so similar to theirs made them press on, even though their legs felt like rubber.

The Chant became audible more clearly now as they approached the Chantry - many voices joined together in adoring prayer were echoing through the dusty streets of the small town. It made Adaar shudder a little, despite the sun warming their skin.

It was a rather warm day, so one of the Chantry doors had been left open, and Adaar now stopped just before them with a lump in their throat. Terror struck them all of a sudden like lightning, as long-buried memories resurfaced. They had already noticed the strong smell of incense drifting out of the church from several paces away, and the air was filled with its scent now - _their_ scent, so sweet and heavy that their stomach churned.

As the diluted smoke enveloped them like deadly miasma, Adaar felt the fragrant incense trigger an intense fear in the back of their head. They looked up at the stony facade of the church and felt the presence of a thousand Templars imprinted on it, their memories carried around them by the scented fumes like ghosts.

Adaar shut their eyes almost paralyzed with panic, trying not to spiral out of control completely. _It's ok. You can always leave._ Focusing on the soles of their feet against the dusty ground, the wind stroking their face gently and the sun warming their scalp, Adaar slowly, gently guided themself out of the maze of their swirling thoughts, gingerly returning to the present moment. _There are no Templars here. At least none that can hurt you._

When their breathing finally resumed a somewhat healthy rate, they looked ahead at the towering gates once more and steeled themself with the familiar, often-rehearsed mental calming routine. _You can do this, you are strong, there is no danger here, only in your head._ And before panic could take a hold of them again, they slipped inside the Chantry.

It worked better than Adaar had thought, as everyone inside was fully engrossed in the Chant. A few people had turned when their silhouette darkened the spring sun streaming inside for a moment, but their shadow joined the sweet, scented dark within the Chantry almost instantly afterwards, and Adaar hurried to a corner at the back where no one would bother to look.

The light was dim inside and it took their eyes a while to get used to it, as they stood blinking in the thick scented air for a few heartbeats, trying to find their bearings. When they could finally see again, Adaar was taken aback by the transformation the church had gone through, as they stood near the wall wide-eyed and a little breathless, taking in its full splendor.

There were candles lit everywhere in the smokey interior of the great hall, and people were absorbed in the ceremony completely, almost as if in trance. The half-speaking, half-singing of the Chant was carried out by low voices from all around, soon rising to a full-bodied echoing force before dying down to a low hum again, as Adaar listened in awe. The words seemed somehow sad to them, but the people participating appeared to be full of hope and purpose.

At the very front, Adaar spotted Leliana and Cassandra standing before a makeshift altar, both fully engaged in the Chant. They seemed to know every single word, as if they'd done this a thousand times. They probably had, Adaar thought bitterly; the Chantry sure liked to spread indoctrination through repetition. Josephine was there as well, ever the picture of grace and poise; and in the back a little to the left they saw the Commander, his head apparently bowed in silent prayer.

Adaar's heart pounded in their chest steadily as they listened to the dozens of voices reverberating in the stony hall. They felt strangely moved by the sight together with the choir of these faithful humans, and though a little embarrassed by their own stupid softness, their curiosity was piqued by the intricacies of the service, and how everyone except them seemed to have been let in on the secrets surrounding it.

After a while Adaar felt a little bolder and decided to move closer to the front. _Don't look too pious now you dumb lug-nut, or they might ask you to join,_ they told themself as they slowly, inconspicuously, made their way through the Chantry, staying well hidden beside the mass of people in the dark behind the large columns that framed the main hall.

Stopping just before the bulk of people who were gathered in front of the wooden altar, Adaar leaned against the stony Chantry wall off to the side with forced casualness, and once more felt entirely out of place. No one seemed to pay much attention to the Herald in this place, thankfully, as everyone was watching Mother Giselle and the others lead them through prayer. They decided to do the most unobtrusive thing and silently survey the women as well, but their eyes soon wandered over to the Commander again, who still kept his place in the back. It was a little strange to see the man here; they had never really considered him to be one for organized ceremonies, but of course it made sense with his background.

Adaar's chest constricted as the watched the Commander stand tall and straight like a rod at the front of the Chantry, a picture of control and pious devotion. _I don't know what I expected,_ Adaar mused grimly. _Once a Templar, always a Templar._ They scoffed at their own naivety as the lump in their throat grew once more, and just as they were about to tear their gaze off of the man who seemed completely immersed in the ceremony, the Chant died down a little bit, then shifted from the song lead by Mother Giselle's calm voice and echoing with many more women's airy tones to a more somber, deeper intonation.

The Commander lifted his head as if on cue. He clearly knew the procedures, as he now folded his hands in front of him while taking a step forward. It all seemed like a well-rehearsed play to Adaar; everyone had their place in this strange, stilted sequence of events, and they wondered if these people truly thought this was the only right way to appease their Maker. Sure, it was beautiful, but man, to do this every week? _What a waste of time._ Adaar felt kind of disappointed this was supposed to be it, but also not totally surprised by this. No miracles, no revelations were to be found here. _I haven't missed much all these years, it seems._

The Chant quieted down again and Adaar turned, ready to leave. They were about to politely shoulder past a few people who only now seemed to notice them, when they heard a familiar voice rise up over the somber chorus of all the others. Adaar turned around again slowly, not entirely sure they were ready for what they would see.

The mass of people had gone fairly quiet now in obedient reverence as Adaar stood in their midst, dumbstruck. The women who had stood by the altar up to now had shifted to the back, and having taken their place at the front Adaar now saw the new center of attention. Yes, they saw it, but their mind had difficulties registering what was happening. It felt like a blow to the stomach had knocked all the air out of Adaar as they struggled to breathe in the warm, smoky air of the Chantry for a moment, and they had to lean against the wall for balance.

Their eyes were fixed on the Commander wide and burning, who rose before the people like a towering statue, his skin like pale marble illuminated by the warm candlelight. His head was framed by a shimmering golden glow, as if their vision had blurred all of a sudden. Like a divine light had touched the man, a halo of fire was circling his face from behind while the broad crest of his fur coat cradled his earthly form like the tongues of black flames licking at his throat.

Adaar was unable to move a muscle as time seemed to stand still around them. Entranced and stupefied, they listened to the timbre of his voice carry the Chant of humans over them and the others who were listening in quiet rapture. These were people they had despised all their life, but all hatred seemed to be washed from them now, as his words and their melody came over them like gentle waves, taking all sorrow and anger with them.

The song seemed to come from all around the Chantry, not just from him, and Adaar realized that the mass of people around them had started to accompany the man's verses, merging into a choir of strange, unfamiliar beauty. Adaar barely registered the words; surely it was about Andraste's sacrifice and her undying love for her husband, and entirely full of sorrow. The melody spoke of mourning and melancholy, reverberating deep within Adaar as they felt their heart ache, their eyes watery and burning with smoke, and their lungs suddenly choking for air.

In a daze, Adaar turned, pushing through the people as they left the Chantry in hasty strides, feeling their way out more than seeing, one hand sluggishly tracing the stone walls for support as they sought only to leave. _How's this for a revelation,_ they heard a familiar mocking voice ask, their head spinning and panic gripping their stomach.

 _Fuck the Chantry,_ Adaar thought as they leaned against the rough stone wall in the glaring sunlight outside, trying to catch their breath. What the hell was supposed to be the purpose of this? To make people feel small and insignificant? To add to their sorrows and fears? Adaar swallowed and closed their eyes, the sunlight piercing their brain like daggers. _No, I think I understand_. Their heart raced now and they felt strangely invaded by the whole experience.

The intent of all this was to make people feel _something_ in the daily toil of their shitty lives, so they would come back again and again to have some kind of semblance of purpose. It was easy to mistake this for a divine experience, Adaar thought. Well, they had experienced it now and they hated it. _Stay the fuck out of my head_ , they hissed at the building and the strange ritual inside.

Suddenly, the second half of the Chantry's gates was opened and Adaar startled at the sound. They must have stood there for a while, as the service seemed to be over and people now streamed out slowly while the Chant inside had died down without them noticing. Instead, there were now the sounds of heavy bells audible from within.

 _Time to go, before someone quizzes me on Chantry history_ , Adaar thought. However, there was a bulk of people trailing by on the road now, cutting off their way back into town. In a panic, they ducked into the dark beside the Chantry, where it was cool and quiet. They could just sneak behind the houses back to the cabin from here.

Just as they were about to leave, weary and fairly shaken by it all, Adaar heard their blasted new title being called behind them. _Fuck_.

Hesitantly, Adaar turned around with their heart pounding in their chest. Before them in the cool breeze, surrounded by tall grass, stood the Commander.

* * *

It had been a long time since Cullen had felt this calm, this fulfilled. The racing thoughts had been calmed in his mind and his hands were steady, his shoulders soft and relaxed. For a moment he stood outside in the clear spring air, feeling the sunlight caress his skin. All the sorrows of the past days melted from him, and a peace washed over Cullen which felt unparalleled.

After taking another moment to simply exist in the rare feeling of serenity, he turned and looked around the crowd, but they were nowhere to be seen. He shook a few more hands, wishing blessings upon the people surrounding him, and finally separated from the crowd, his heart still elated with song and the words of the Maker.

Just as he was about to turn to the training grounds Cullen spotted the lone figure again and hesitated for a moment, then took heart and walked over with a strong sense of purpose reawakened in him.

He stepped into the quiet shadows of the Chantry and surveyed the tall silhouette, like a ghostly manifestation which seemed entirely out of place in the splendor of this spring daylight. He took a few moments to steel his resolve with his heart now beating like a hammer, he suddenly felt young and insecure again as he looked at their broad build, the horns circling their head like a crown, and a small shiver ran down his spine.

The air around them was filled with the spices of spring herbs and the thick incense smoke that still lingered on him, fresh and strong. He called out to the Herald as he approached, his mind still awash with their image, like a divine apparition between mortals. As the Qunari turned, he felt a surge of joy in his chest, but was taken aback moments later by the look on their face, and stopped in his tracks.

The Herald's brows were furrowed, their lips pressed together into a thin line. On their cheeks, a wet shimmer glinted lightly, their eyes red and tense. The smile vanished from his face as he suddenly realized they had been crying.

No, surely he was wrong. The Herald of Andraste had no need for such displays of weakness, and they could not have been moved by the words of his god like that. But they kept wiping at what were clearly tears, which did not accomplish much as more were now flowing down their face silently and slowly.

He lingered where he stood for a moment; maybe he should not disturb them here. As he viewed the Herald across from him in the lush grass, he realized the damage was already done. So he just stood before of the Qunari, his resolve weakening quickly and doubt clouding his mind again. He found his hand rubbing the pommel of his sword nervously, when he realized that might not be the best gesture and simply folded his hands in front of him instead. _Get a grip.  
_

After what felt like an eternity, he took heart again. They were still viewing him silently, and he once again felt abandoned by his wits and strength, feeling a faint quiver in his fingers already.

"Herald, I..." The Herald's stony face made him lose all sense of the words he had had in his mind before. They drew in a shaky breath and shot him an expectant look, maybe ready for him to leave, probably ready for him to leave, but he found himself unable to move.

"I...saw you in there. At the service." Their eyes suddenly widened and he could have slapped himself for his ineptitude. For a few more agonizing heartbeats, neither of them spoke, only the calls of birds filling the air around them while the murmur of the crowd slowly died down behind him.

The Herald cast their eyes down, and his chest constricted. In their posture he saw nothing of their usual strength and determination, no hostility or distrust, they only lifted a hand to their face in a tired gesture and ran it through their hair. "Yes...well, I wanted to...to see. What it was like. I...had never been." The Herald's voice was quivering, weak almost. Once again, he felt his chest tighten, his throat closing up. The gentle spring breeze whispered around him and he felt just as out of place as they looked.

"So did you - what did you think?" Cullen chastised himself once more for his inability to speak in their presence, as Adaar let out a shaky sigh and turned with their shoulders bowed slightly, their hands clenched together with one thumb rubbing over the other in an unfamiliar, nervous manner. This was not the Herald he knew, always strong and imposing; calm and a little sarcastic, maybe uttering a few cutting words - there was none of that now. They seemed smaller than he knew them, open and vulnerable, and he thought about how woefully unprepared he was for a situation like this.

Cullen scratched the side of his neck nervously - maybe he should leave? He could still leave. But then he heard the Herald speak, quietly and in the same shaky voice as before. "It was...not what I had thought. I don't know what I expected. But people seemed to enjoy it. I believe it gave them hope and strength, in a way." They were still looking away, apparently into the woods, but their eyes were strangely unfocused as if they were fixed on something that was not there at all.

It was uncomfortably quiet for a while, and Cullen wrecked his brain for something to say. The Herald suddenly sighed and ran a hand over their forehead with a quiet scoff. "I think he would have liked it.", they stated almost as if to themself, but Cullen, ever the master of sensitive subtleties heard himself say "Who?", which seemed to startle Adaar back into reality.

They looked at him again for the first time in what had seemed an eternity seeming slightly surprised to see him standing there, and Cullen could have kicked himself.

"Meraad. He...he was always fond of the Chantry." Cullen felt a dagger go through heart when he saw the soft expression on their face, and his head started to swim. Adaar pressed their mouth shut tightly and he saw another tear glint in their eyes when they spoke again.

"I...had a brother. Younger than me. He...he is not.." Their chin now quivered and they drew in a shaky breath. Cullen felt the words hit him like a rock while he resisted the urge to say anything and instead just stared at them, his eyes wide. "Herald..." 

Tears were now streaming down their face again, and he heard them sob once, the sound cutting the air around them like a knife. It was quiet and suppressed but it was enough, more than he could take. He stepped up to the Herald as far as his weakening legs allowed him to, but still could not bring himself to say anything; he wrecked his brain for any words, but they would not come and Adaar spoke again before he could.

"He always wanted me to go to the local Chantry with him. He...believed, you know. He _believed_ what the Sisters would tell us, the few who were brave enough to come and talk to the heathen Oxmen, about the Maker, Andraste, and the Chant, and so one time we sneaked into the town's Chantry together, at night." Cullen was now at a complete loss while an invisible force was keeping him from getting any closer to the Herald, so he just stood there like an idiot, his mouth slightly open as if to speak, but still there were no words inside him. 

"There was, of course, no service at that time, but he had so wanted to see it. He was not even 15 yet, he was just a _child_ , Commander, just a boy!" Their sobs were now coming harder, their voice raised almost to a shout. Cullen realized they were very much out in the open and hoped to the Maker no one would see the Herald like this, no one but him. He positioned himself so that he would shield them at least a bit from any onlookers, but everything was quiet and as he looked behind himself briefly, mercifully, there was no one in sight.

"People in town knew I was a mage, of course, but they never approached us. He was not gifted with magic himself, but he was very talented, so good with any craft - he could learn it instantly, and he was so very smart. But we were _both_ not smart enough to stay away from that blasted place. We went inside like thieved and looked around in the glinting golden hall for a while. Everything in there was more valuable and splendid that anything we'd ever seen in or around our rural home. It was beautiful, sure, and we were stunned by it all. We wanted to go looking around more, but suddenly we heard noises behind us. Being the naive, stupid children we were, we had not thought of them being there that late, but I guess that's where they stayed. It's no matter anyway because regardless of where they'd come from, we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by three Templars."

Cullen's heart must have skipped a beat, and he felt his vision go dark for one moment, his breath caught in his lungs. There was only one way this was going to end, and he did not want them to continue, he was not sure he could take it.

The Herald was no longer sobbing, and their voice had gone flat and very quiet, which jarred his ears even more than their shouting.

"We ran. We made it past them, and into the night, but even though we were fast and taller than them, you know, we could not run from the arrows. One of them caught Meraad in the back of his thigh, and we had to stop. I called to them, _pleaded_ for them to stop, but I was young and dumb and scared and my magic flared up in my hands, which of course prompted them to do the exact opposite. They circled us - Meraad was always so protective of me, you see, his older sibling, the mage, the outcast. He grabbed one of their tunics, desperate for them to stop. It all happened so fast, I only remember a flash of blood and steel, and him sinking to the ground, lifeless."

The Herald's feverish gaze was fixed on Cullen now and he was shivering slightly, his hands trembling, his mouth was dry while in his head, a low pounding began. "I killed all three that night, but it did not bring him back. I carried him all the way home, but it did not make him come to life again. I screamed at the top of my lungs, i used all the healing magic I knew, but he would not open his eyes. We all had to leave soon after that, of course, and I left our next home after a few weeks, I could not bear to see his things around the house anymore, and the look on my father's face when he told me _I should have looked out for him_. I have not gone back since and...I can't..." Adaar trailed off and swallowed, hard and dry, looking into nothingness again.

Cullen felt his breath coming only shakily, and with great effort due to the blasted tremors in his fingers, he handed them his water skin - it was all he could think of. They looked at him weakly and took it, drinking between hard quivering breaths. When they handed it back and their hands touched on the rough surface of the leather skin, they suddenly took hold of his hand and locked eyes with him. Thunder went through his whole body as he tried not to collapse then and there. "I think he would have enjoyed it. I heard you sing, in there. I wish he could have seen it. It was beautiful, Commander."

After they finally let go of the skin, they looked up at the Chantry and sighed quietly once more. "I hope you are comfortable now, wherever you are."

Cullen found himself frozen in place, still holding the water skin out in front of him, still feeling the pressure of their hand on his. Embarrassed, he tucked it away quickly, finally able to move again, his face burning hot and red while his heart seemed about to leap out of his chest.

And as the tears started streaming down their face again, Cullen found himself placing his hand gently on their upper arm, and with a voice he did not know himself, weak and trembling, he nodded and told them "I am sure of it, Herald. I shall pray for him if it please you."

Adaar looked up silently and slowly as all the noise seemed to have ceased around them, their forehead strewn with deep lines, first up at Cullen and then down at his hand on their arm, and he knew he had failed yet again. He had angered the Herald with his belief which they obviously did not share - he never knew when to speak and when to keep his blasted mouth shut. He quickly withdrew his hand, hot embarrassment burning within him. What was he thinking?

Cullen turned, ready to leave before he should sully their grief even more with his ridiculously incapable ways, and muttered a brief "I...forgive me", before he felt it hit him.

From behind him a hand grabbed his arm firmly, shooting electricity through him, and he turned with his eyes cast down, ready to face any rightfully deserved blow. For several heartbeats he stood in the quietly whistling spring breeze, his whole body grown stiff. The hand on his arm neither tightened its grip nor loosened, and he felt time stand still around him. Slowly, he looked up at the Herald, who was now so very close to him, and their face showed an expression he could not identify, but he was sure it was not good.

"Herald.." His hands were trembling hard now, and Adaar saw it as they looked down at them with a strange expression. He felt exposed, naked almost in the cool shadows where they had stepped into his space which now seemed removed from time and all their surroundings. Their hand was still on his arm, without force, but his skin where they touched him through the cloth still throbbed and stung, as if being burned by boiling water.

All the air left him as something slammed into his chest, hard and sudden. Cullen closed his eyes instinctively, his mind emptied of any thought. He felt something touch his back now, it felt like knives in his skin, and he was unable to breathe, petrified and about to lose consciousness altogether.

Gingerly, he opened his eyes to see nothing much at first. All of his upper body was hot and felt constricted, while something seemed to wrap around his neck. As his vision slowly focused on his surroundings again, he saw that the Herald was close, so close and breathing heavily. He felt faint again, unable to piece together what was happening. Slowly, like in a dream, he raised a hand to his throat and ran it along the smooth surface of whatever was curled against his neck. 

Looking down, he saw a pool of hair entirely too close to his face, and felt heavy breaths on his neck. The Herald was leaning against his body while short sobs escaped their throat, their arms were wrapped around him and their face...Maker, their face was on his shoulder as tears streamed down their cheeks.

Cullen felt dizzy; he could not remember the last time someone had been this close to him. _Maker's breath_ , he was not one for physical or emotional expressions of fondness, and few people around him had come close enough for him to let his guard down, and this was why. He felt panicked. Restricted. He stared at the Herald as if they were a wild animal pinning him down and felt nausea creep up in his abdomen.

Slowly, the Herald's sobs got quieter and as they shifted their head, burying their face into the fur of his coat, his muscles softened a bit and his breath came back. They looked entirely vulnerable and unguarded and he felt as if they had melted into him, touching his very core, something no one had come even close to in years.

With thoughts racing, he placed a hand on their back, easy, not too quickly, and he felt them move _closer_. "Thank you, Commander. I would appreciate it." He heard their muffled voice through several soft sobs at his shoulder, and his mind sluggishly pieced together what he heard. They had accepted his prayers, his meek offer of consolation. With burning cheeks and a flaming hot neck, he placed another hand on their back, a little bit tighter now, only a little, and his heart felt ready to stop there and then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you were a presence full of light upon this earth  
> And I am a witness to your life and to its worth  
> It's three days later when I get the call  
> And there's nobody around to break my fall


	9. Holding on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning comes to a stuttering halt  
> The cool breeze that blows is somebody's fault

The sunlight glared through the windows, burning Adaar's eyes; another night without enough sleep. It had started again after that day at the Temple, and sleep never came easily to them these days. Tossing and turning, long after the lights had gone out, a thousand thoughts swirling, burning questions invaded their thoughts never to be answered.

If they did finally drift off to sleep, often they awoke during the night, sweating, the Mark sizzling, their sheets freezing cold and their skin covered with a sheen of icy crystals. It had gotten a little better since they started sparring with the soldiers, it got a lot of energy out and they felt like they were doing something good for once but whenever they had been out in the field the dreams returned, of screeching demons and lately, of...him.

They should never have gone to the fucking Chantry. What were they thinking it would accomplish? Well, it did accomplish something, memories flaring up like forest fires, here and there, unstoppable.

_I miss you, little brother. I always will._

They sighed heavily and sat up, running a hand through their tangled mess of hair. And now the fucking Commander knew, as well. Just great. Flickers of the previous day shot past in their head, they had hugged the freaking man, what was wrong with them? The Commander of their forces, now he must see them as some kind of weakling, unstable and maybe kind of crazy. 

Adaar finally got up and washed in the cold water from the basin the servants always left the day before. They were so uncomfortable with someone waiting on them and had pleaded with Josephine for them to stop coming in first thing in the morning, one of them had even tried to _dress_ Adaar once and that had been the final straw. But they would not stop bringing at least water, _you must look your best, Herald, please!_

Adaar could heat up the water but they preferred the cold on their face. Only for bathing would they actually use warm water, and they could see it was time for one again, soon. The Ambassador would not have them running around with their hair a mess, ever, even if they felt like putting on clothes was too much some days and only wished to stay in bed. But it was no use. They needed to be _presentable_ , as Josephine had put it, at all times.

They stepped out into the unrelenting sun after a quick wash and squinted into the early morning sky. This was not a great time to be awake, for sure, but another meeting was already waiting. They were getting better at sitting through those arduous discussions of strategy and actually listening, too. Slowly, Adaar made their way up to the tavern to get some food before the war table meeting.

A multitude of shouts of "Herald!" and "Good morning your Worship!" greeted them along with many bows and they managed to respond to a few, if only with a grunt. The tavern was fairly quiet still, only Sera was about already (well she did live there, despite the protests from the Ambassador and Cassandra) and started firing a thousand questions at Adaar about when it was time to "Kill some baddies" again and when they were finally going to head out. "Ugh, Sera, soon, I promise. Please, though, not before coffee, alright. No talking before coffee, _please_." The elf chuckled and took off, no doubt to wreak havoc on some other people who despised mornings, and Adaar did feel bad for them but was also glad for some quiet.

Flissa was still nervous whenever the Qunari entered the tavern, but she did her best and knew exactly what Adaar wanted. Bread, cheese, fruit, and coffee. The first time, she had presented them with a fried sausage and Adaar was pretty sure they had turned an actual shade of emerald green, _it's too early for that Flissa, fuck_ , and she had since learned to deal with their sensitive stomach in the morning.

She handed them the food, promised to have the coffee "ready in an instant, your Worship" and Adaar simply grunted in agreement. When she came back they had started with the fruit and she was nodding approvingly, happy to see the Herald eat. She was perfect as an innkeep, always so caring. When she presented them with the steaming cup of liquid happiness, Adaar could have kissed the woman. "You're an angel, Flissa, thank you!" To this she only blushed, mumbled something and was off to the kitchens again.

Adaar sipped the drink, content that there was no one there to talk to them when they heard a quiet cough next to them and turned. "Good...good morning, Herald" In an instant, a thousand images flashed before their eyes, of them in the Chantry shadows, crying and hugging the Commander, who now stood before them now, looking tired and a little disheveled.

They had to suppress a smirk, despite their rising panic. He had a stain of something on his usually so perfectly groomed tunic and before him, the remains of a large breakfast, which he now put on the bar, together with the plate. "Muh..muhrning." Adaar swallowed dryly and took another sip of their coffee. _Get it together, damn it_. They munched down a few more pieces of food and pointed to his chest, at which he looked down, seemingly confused. "Don't let the Ambassador see that." they chuckled, now energized somewhat by the coffee, trying to find their bearings.

He seemed not to notice the stain, looking up at them still confused, and so Adaar took their white cloth napkin, dunked it into the pitcher of water and patted the tunic where he had spilled...coffee? He seemed to flinch a little, and before Adaar realized what they were doing, they heard Flissa rounding the corner again. They looked up at the completely frazzled Commander and stopped, cheeks flushing red. _What the hell is your problem Adaar?!_ They thrust the napkin into his hands and as the innkeep appeared at the bar again, they left him with an "I trust you have the matter in hand" and rushed out of the tavern _._

Fidgeting, they sat at the giant oak table and tried to pay attention to what Josephine was rattling off, which was no doubt of great importance. _Good job not making a total fool out of yourself yet again Adaar._

Leliana entered, a hefty stack of reports in hand, followed by Cassandra, and finally, the Commander. They looked up at him, he looked at them with eyes slightly widened, and as they saw there was no more stain to be seen, Adaar gave him a stealthy thumbs up, to which he might have blushed briefly they thought, before he took his place, again the image of steely, stern control.

The meeting went well, they only wished there had been more coffee, as they all resolved it was time to head out to the Hinterlands again, another set of rifts had appeared somewhere in the forests and needed to be taken care of before they could address the Breach itself. They slipped out afterward and headed to the smith to get their gear in order for the journey to come. Once Harritt had been briefed on all that needed to be done ( _this will take at least a day your Worship_ ), they headed toward their cabin, only to be stopped by Bull who was itching for a fight as well, it seemed, and he did not let go of the matter.

"I need to kill something, and soon, Adaar." he had growled. "Well, I could offer you some sparring with the recruits until we head out? Please just don't _kill_ them, alright?" He seemed to think that was an excellent idea, and his second-in-command, Krem, wanted in as well. So they all headed toward the Commander who was already shouting orders at recruits. Krem made a few remarks about wanting to see "if all Qunari were such lumbering hard-asses as the Boss" to which both Bull and they replied, "They're not Qunari" and "He's not a mage" at the same time. Krem only smirked and mumbled, "I see". They were such a strange group, the way his soldiers showed Bull the utmost respect and still gave him a massive amount of lip, but Adaar liked the two; they were always straightforward and they appreciated their rotten humor and foul mouths. They never got away with cursing so much with anyone else.

The Commander looked up at the three, furrowing his brows, and Adaar thought they saw him fidgeting with the hilt of his sword a little nervously, but that was surely not the case. "Herald." He gave them a curt nod and looked at the two men questioningly. "Commander. We were thinking you could include these two in the sparring lessons we have been discussing. What do you think, got a place for them? I think the soldiers could benefit from it."

The man seemed perplexed a little but agreed. "Of course, that would be an excellent opportunity for them. Let's get right to it." He instructed the recruits in what they would be practicing with the two and watched them for a while, seemingly unaware of Adaar still being there, as they spoke up behind him. "Thank you, Commander, they were getting a bit restless and I think this is a good opportunity for all of them." He jerked his head around to face them and simply nodded shortly and wordlessly.

Adaar felt increasingly awkward with the silence growing between them, but added after a while, "Maybe I could join again, soon, as well?" He seemed to fidget _again_ , now they were pretty sure they'd seen it, and lowered his voice, which made it hard to hear him within the clanking and shouting around them. "Certainly. If you're...sure.." Adaar knitted their brows. "Why would I not be...oh. You mean...the Chantry." He gave them a short nod again, barely noticeable, and Adaar drew in a breath. "I am fine Commander. Besides, it will take my mind off things. Shall we get started? No time like the present, right?"

They had shown the recruits quite a few new maneuvers today, both about how to deal with magic and how to use it best, and they were indeed exhausted. Maybe they had overdone it a bit, but it felt good to get all the nervous energy out. Adaar holstered their staff as the soldiers and mages headed off to go on break and eat, and dusted their clothes off as they heard someone stepping up from behind.

They turned and faced the man who seemed equally out of breath. "Commander. Good session today, thank you for letting me take part." He blinked a few times, seemingly caught off guard. "Herald, you do not need to ask. We are all at your service." Adaar shook their head, they still did not feel quite comfortable commanding such a large force at all. "Well, they are your soldiers, Commander. I defer to your judgment." He opened his mouth to speak again, but they only held up a hand, as he was surely about to go off about the Herald and their worthy cause and such.

"Please, I only mean I respect your position. I think that's appropriate. You lead them well." He drew in a breath and with a nod and a "Herald." he seemed placated, or simply did not wish to contradict, which was just as well. He rubbed his neck and stared out at the lake, then at Adaar, and they felt a weighty question coming.

"Are you...alright, your Worship?" Adaar groaned quietly and felt the heat rise up their neck. "I...I'm fine. I've been, mh, meaning to thank you, Commander. And to apologize, I..." they had rehearsed what to say a hundred times in their head last night, and now the words were like rocks, tumbling over each other. _Damn it all to hell_.

"There is no need to apologize, Herald. I...I am sorry for disturbing you, I never meant to intrude." They shook their head slightly. "No need to apologize either. I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm usually more...composed." He nodded. "It can be hard to keep appearances up at all times. If...if you ever need to talk, Herald, I..." Adaar looked at him and felt an unfamiliar warmth in their stomach. Warily, they looked at the man. His voice was soft and calm, and they doubted he had ulterior motives, but then again, _you can never be sure_. "Thank you, that won't be necessary."

"The offer stands, Herald. Whenever you may need it, I am here to listen." He began shifting around from one foot to the other after that and seemed nervous, and another awkward silence passed between them. It was broken by a cough beside the two. "Forgive my intrusion, but may I borrow the Herald for the moment?" It was Krem, saluting the Commander, who simply nodded, bowed slightly toward Adaar and took his leave.

Adaar tried to get their thoughts in order. "Krem. Was there something you needed?" The man's eyes sparkled at them. "Nothing specific your Worship, but I thought you could use a break. And I wanted to ask if perhaps you'd like to accompany me to lunch?"

 

* * *

 

Cullen's eyes shot open, another damned nightmare, another night with too little sleep, he was getting all too used to it, but his body was not. He felt the drumming in his ears begin and his head started to pound with a familiar ache. He felt weak and drained but it was no use, there was much to do today. The Herald was leaving again and the troops needed training now more than ever. The session with the Chargers might have been a good start, but it was up to him to see it continue. Furthermore, he had to send troops out to the Hinterlands to aid in the closing of these new rifts they had gotten reports on.

He rubbed his neck, groaned lightly and stepped out into the cloudy, cold day. The sun was not out but the light was blinding nonetheless. In an instant, there was a messenger on his heels, handing him a multitude of reports; he would have to read them over breakfast. Thankfully, Flissa had that ready for him when he entered the tavern. The Herald was nowhere to be seen today, likely getting ready to leave. He sighed. Sometimes he wished he could join them instead of being at Haven at all times; being out in the field would be a welcome change for him, but it was no use. This is where he could serve the Inquisition best.

After the short meeting with Leliana and Josephine - the Herald was not present here either - he headed down to the smith who informed him the Herald had already left. He rubbed his neck and headed back to the training grounds, wishing he could have seen them off, but it was just as well, he would just send a raven informing them when the troops were scheduled to arrive.

On his way over, he passed the Tevinter, who bowed and nodded at the Commander slightly. He nodded back but did not stop. No time to chat. Besides, he found himself not fully trusting the man. Or his superior, for that matter. Not because he was a Qunari, but because he was a _spy_. He saw him watching and listening always, and he had no doubts the Tevinter was tasked with keeping this up while the Iron Bull was out in the field. He only wished the Herald would not spend their time with the two so lightly. He had seen them during his meal yesterday, there had only been space close to the two in the tavern, and he had taken it.

Cullen had not been able to make out a full conversation, but the Tevinter kept chatting at the Herald constantly, and they had laughed at his jokes, loud and raspy, while the Tevinter had touched their arm seemingly casually a little too often for his liking, and Cullen had felt a twinge in his chest. Come to think of it, he had never heard them laugh like that before. He shook the thought from his mind - who was he to question the choices of the Herald, they were a grown person after all. But he _could_ keep an eye on this man. The safety of the Herald was paramount, after all.

 

* * *

 

Adaar rolled over in their bedroll, their mind swimming, with the images of demons seared into it, their faces sneering and screeching. These rifts were worse than any they had seen so far. Out here in the thick Ferelden forest, they had been discovered later than the others and were left to fester. And now they had more trouble closing them all here. The group had put up their tents for the night near the mountainside; they had wanted to stay in a cave they had cleared just before, but Adaar refused to sleep next to demon remains, and so they had made camp under the open sky.

Usually, they slept well under the stars, but there were none out tonight, the sky was overcast with clouds and the night was not as cold as usual for it. They usually did not sleep in their tent, preferring the freedom of the vast night sky above them.

Adaar sighed and rolled onto their back, listening to the fire crackle, when a large figure appeared next to them. It was Bull, and Adaar was left wondering yet again how he managed to keep so quiet at times. "Can't sleep, boss?" He sat down beside them and Adaar rubbed their forehead. "Oh no, this is just such a lovely vacation we are having, and I wanted to enjoy every moment of it, even the nights, when something is almost certain to strike at us from the dark, you know."

Bull laughed, and Adaar punched him in the arm lightly. "Don't wake the others, man. And what are you still doing up anyway?" The other Qunari scoffed. "Oh, I wanted to admire the view as well; the South is so quaint and lovely and it is very hard to fall asleep without any Vints to stab you in your sleep. I do kinda miss it." Adaar scoffed. "Shit, I should've brought Dorian after all!" Bull laughed again, this time a little more quietly.

"Yeah, I do miss our Vints. Hope they're doing alright at home. I saw you hang out with Krem, by the way. Careful with that one, boss." Adaar sat up and huffed with a mock scowl. "I can take care of myself you know. Besides, are you saying one of your own can't be trusted?" -"What? No, he's a damn good man. All I'm saying is...ah, I guess you'll see for yourself. He's quick with his sword _and_ his words, you know." He chuckled. "No need to worry at all. I got my eye on you always, boss. Good night." With that, he was off to his tent (which he barely fit in) and Adaar laid back down, musing how strange their situation had become, from a prisoner that saw a threat everywhere, to the Herald who had found some people they could almost call friends.

Dorian and Bull for one, the hulking man who was now apparently looking out for them, and seemed to be a bit soft inside. Cassandra was still a tough nut to crack, but a good person and Josephine and Varric were both lovely, the dwarf was snoring next to them in his tent right now. Even the Commander didn't seem so bad anymore, he was almost civil at times. Adaar yawned and turned over, trying not to hear too many demons rustle in the undergrowth next to them.


	10. On a clear day I can't see my own thoughts

There was bustling and shouting going on outside which sent sharp pains up his spine and behind his eyes. Maker, was there never a day where this would be at least a little bit better? _It should be better by now_. Cullen rose slowly, tried to get his messy hair under control with the water in his wash basin, splashed some on his burning face and stepped outside.

People were running back and forth, and he tried to focus on something, but his vision failed him for the first few minutes. He saw a number of servants carrying an array of herbs and bandages toward the town and slowly got worried. He heard footsteps approaching rapidly behind him and turned, only to crash into someone. He drew in air through his teeth sharply and scowled at the messenger, a young lad whose eyes were now fixed on him, wide.

"What is the matter with you, recruit?! What's so damn important you couldn't stop in your tracks in time before you ran into me?" He felt bad for yelling at the boy, who looked like he was going to cry, but the sharp pain in his head had the anger roiling in him and his temper was short today, too short for any of this foolishness.

"Commander. My deepest apologies. It's...it's the Herald, Ser. They have returned." Cullen felt a wave of relief wash over him, it had been too long, longer than usual this time, they had all gotten worried about them, and there had been no word back from the raven he'd sent.

The lad was still standing in front of him, fidgeting with his sleeves. "Was there something else? Maker's breath, out with it!" This only made the boy more nervous though, and he stammered out a "They're...hurt, Ser. Adan is taking care of them." And with a short bow, he was off.

Cullen felt heat rise up in the pits of his stomach. Hurt? How badly? It must be more than the usual bruises if Adan was involved personally. He started toward the healer's hut instantly, a thousand thoughts rushing in his mind, he took two steps at once going up the stairs, pushing some gawking recruits out of the way. _Maker, please let them be alright_.

The light was dim in the healer's cabin, and Cullen was still none the wiser. The blasted mages outside had given him no useful information, the Tevinter and the elf had just looked at him and Dorian had shaken his head, looking down. He had entered a little too fast, though, and felt nauseated. It smelled of a multitude of herbs and the air was thick and stale, mixed with the unmistakable scent of blood. Through it cut a voice apparently directed at him. "Close the damn door! What are you doing?"

He heard it like through a thick haze. Someone tried to usher him out, but he pushed them aside, moving further back into the room and so the door was shut behind him. As his vision cleared a bit, he saw them, stretched out on the cot in front of him, looking extremely pale.

"You can't be in here, Commander!" Someone tried to lead him outside again, but he only gave them a short shove. "Herald.." He stepped closer and saw Adan bowed over the Qunari, who seemed unconscious. "Are...they alright, Adan?" The healer looked up, seemingly registering his presence for the first time. "What are you doing in here? Get out, Commander, I'll see you when I'm done."

Cullen felt anger rise within him. "Damn it, speak man, are they....alive?" he growled the last words and Adan seemed taken aback. "Andraste's tits, yes! Now, if you're not leaving at least be quiet!" He bowed back down and removed a woolen blanket from their pale body. Cullen felt his face drain of all blood and his stomach turned. There was a long gash on the Herald's side, and it had festered. _Demons_. There were bandages covering them in multiple places, bloodstained, and he suddenly realized there was not much else...covering them. His vision blurred again as he turned on his heel and staggered outside.

A rush of blood now returned to his head. Maker's breath, what was he thinking? The healer's assistant followed him outside. "What...what happened?" The woman tutted but sounded sympathetic. "They're going to be fine, Commander. Adan knows what he's doing, but he needs peace to work. I need to go back inside, too. Now please, give them some space!" Cullen nodded and swallowed hard. Someone was approaching him from behind, and he looked up to see it was Cassandra.

"Andraste preserve us, what happened, Seeker?" The woman shook her head, looking forlorn. He could see she had sustained injuries too which were patched up roughly, but she was apparently not too concerned about them.

"Some of the soldiers who were tasked with helping to close the rifts joined us as we were fighting. A young recruit was in over his head, the Herald saw and...stepped between him and the demon. They got the brunt of the force, which likely saved his life." Cullen's hands were trembling, his ears buzzing. "That's not how...they shouldn't have.."

Cassandra's face was hard and tired. "Well, they did. They're going to be fine, Commander, we patched them up as best we could and Adan is a skilled healer. Now come, there is a war table meeting waiting." With that, the woman was off to the Chantry and Cullen felt unable to move for a while, the milky pale body of the Herald still seared into his mind. Slowly, he gathered his remaining wits and made his way over as well.

The meeting had consisted largely of confused and grim reports about the gigantic rifts in the forest; apparently, they had managed to seal almost all of them before this had happened. Cassandra had ordered the troops to retreat, and they would need to go back again. _Back?_ His skin crawled with goosebumps at the thought of the wound in the Herald's side. They were risking their life out there every day, and they were only one person. The only one to seal these rifts and...they could not afford to lose them.

He would need to give his soldiers a good talking to that they were not to interfere with the Herald's work, and that they came first always. "Commander, everyone was simply doing their job. It just...happened." The Seeker looked at him pleadingly. "Just happened? This is not acceptable. This _can not_ happen, ever, understand?" He rose from his seat too quickly and had to shut his eyes as sharp pains shot through him and lights danced before his eyes. The meeting was largely concluded and he could not sit around around more.

Cullen rushed outside and found himself wandering over to Adan's hut again. When he got there he asked himself what in Andraste's name he was planning to do, when the door swung open and Adan stepped outside, wiping his hands of...blood. He felt weak and ground his teeth; his breath coming only shallow and ragged, he walked up to the man. "Commander." Adan nodded at him. "I...how...how are they?" He almost could not make himself stay to hear the answer. "The Herald is stable, no thanks to you."

Cullen felt like he was about to collapse. "Oh, thank the Maker!" He grabbed hold of one of the wooden beams on the cabin to steady himself. "Don't thank the bloody Maker, I did all the work." Adan looked at him and his face softened a bit. "They...are awake, if you want to see them. Only shortly though, you hear! And no yelling or other loud noises!" Cullen nodded at the man and drifted toward the door when he was stopped before he could enter. "How are you, Commander? You seem exceedingly irritable today. Is it that bad? I can give you something for that." Cullen only looked at him and nodded again, weakly. "Later." With that, he turned and entered.

Adan's assistant was still inside, and she huffed when she saw the Commander. "Did Adan say you could come inside?" Cullen nodded. "Yes. I apologize about before. Can I see them?" The woman shook her head and left. "5 minutes!", she whispered as she left him in the dark, stuffy room.

He looked over at the cot, his hands shaking quite heavily now. "...Herald?" He spoke in a hushed tone he was not even sure he heard himself, but they noticed and turned their head. Their eyes were sunken in and red, but they saw him. "Commander." he approached with a pounding heart and sat on the stool next to the bed. "I hear you're giving our healer grief, Commander. Do you not want me to recover from this?" They chuckled in a low raspy voice, and he bent over, his head in his hands. They were alright. They were alive. He felt a weak hand touch his knee, almost not enough to register, but he felt it and looked up. "Are you ok, Commander? You look terrible." He could not help it, it was all too much, and he started laughing. Was he alright? Definitely not. But the Herald was alive and well, and that was all that mattered.

 

* * *

 

The damned demons had some kind of fucking poison on their claws, and it had sunk deep within their body, Adan had kindly informed them. "You need rest!" was all they heard, every day. With his healing skills and Solas' spells, they felt good as new after two days already, but the healer would not have it. "You are still weak. Rest, now!"

But after day four it was too much and they got up from their bed where they had been moved after they felt stable enough. The room swam a bit at first, sure, but oh it was good to be up again. They washed their face and staggered toward the door, where the guard they had positioned at their cabin door jumped at the sound of it opening and held out her hands in front of her. "No, Herald, you're not supposed to be up! Please, go back to bed! Let me get Adan-" Adaar groaned. "Hell no. Anyone but him. Also, I'm leaving."

The poor guard protested a few more times and took off toward the town when Adaar would not be dissuaded. It was early morning and likely time for a war table meeting. How wonderful! They could barely contain their giddiness. I can't wait to see them all, Josephine and Leliana and even the Commander, oh, how grand, to have a real conversation!

They realized they seemed a bit light-headed but it did not matter, anything was better than being confined to a bed. Adaar thought that the healer probably had them on some strong mixture to mitigate the pain, and they felt _great_. People were now looking as they felt like they floated toward the Chantry. Oh, I can't wait to see their faces! They swung open the door, ignoring the next guard's pleas, and, oh, the faces were a sight to see indeed.

Adaar realized through the thick wool their brain seemed to be packed into that they had heard shouting from inside the war room, and things seemed indeed heated, but everyone froze in place when they saw Adaar, swaying in the door frame and sweating profusely. "Maker!" Josephine was the first to react, and Adaar suddenly saw the Commander round the table and rush toward them.

"Hello, Commander. How goes the-" He grabbed their shoulders and gently pushed them into a chair. "What on Earth are you doing up?!" Leliana and Josephine paced over as well and Adaar felt themselves staring at the group like a confused dog. "I...couldn't stay in bed any longer. Can I please be part of the meeting?" -"Absolutely not! You need rest, Herald!" Josephine felt their forehead and looked concerned. "What are these guards doing?!" -"Not their job apparently!" They all seemed very displeased and Adaar grabbed the Ambassador's hand.

"It's not like they could really stop me if they wanted to. Please, can I just stay for this one? I am bored out of my mind!" -"We are done here for today, Herald. Commander, would you see them back to their quarters, please!" The man nodded and Adaar let out a groan. "Come, Herald, please." He helped them get to their feet with considerable effort and lead them out of the room. He wanted to put one arm over his shoulders but Adaar resisted. "I'm too heavy for you anyway." He sighed and took their arm in his instead. Outside, the sun was glaring at them, and they felt a sting behind their eyes, suddenly getting weak.

"Oh, I think I should lie down."

* * *

The town was busy already and everyone stared when they saw the Herald being lead back to their cabin, but they quickly went on their way when they saw the look on the Commander's face.

Cullen swung open the cabin's door and gently lead them over to the bed; he had to suppress a smile when he saw the bedding strewn across the room by what must have been their attempt to get up. Cullen lowered the Herald onto the bed and gathered the linen up, placing them onto the bed next to the Herald. "You should really get some rest, Herald. I'm sure Adan will be over soon."

They groaned and fell back onto the bed. Cullen stood in the room, inadvertently realized he had never been inside their quarters before and blushed. "I will...go see what's taking so long." They shot up from the bed again. "No! Please stay with me a little bit, I can't take this boredom anymore." Hesitantly but dutifully, he brought over a chair and sat down next to them. "What...do you need, Herald?" They fell back down and threw an arm over their face. "Just talk to me. Please. I feel like I haven't had any contact with the outside world in weeks."

He slowly began to fill them in on the war table meetings they had missed, though he doubted they would remember much after this talk. Adan really had them on strong painkillers. They giggled a bit and turned over to face him after a while, and he knew they were not listening.

"You have...a good voice Commander. I've always liked it. So deep and..somber." Their eyes fell shut slowly and he felt a bolt of lightning shoot through him. They were delirious. _Time to go._ But they seemed to notice, grabbed his hand, and Cullen froze in place. "Herald..." They opened their eyes again and stared at him, with a feverish gaze. "You're a good man. Everything about you is good." They chuckled again, low and raspy, and his breathing began to quicken. He only wanted out, this was not right, none of this was.

"You know how I know? You have kind eyes. I wish I could..." Adaar pulled him closer to the bed suddenly, and he lost his footing for a moment, _Maker, they were still strong_. Their face was now so very close to his, and they lifted another hand, slowly and with no small amount of effort it seemed, and placed it on his cheek. He felt time stand still and panic rise within him. No. He could not be here. But they did not speak anymore, he felt the hot, dry, soft skin on his, and his hands shook again. He wanted to leave but he found himself unable to move, not because they were restraining him, but because all strength had left him.

Their face had taken on a soft expression, their eyes seemed to look deep within him, and he felt entirely naked as they looked into his eyes, right through every barrier he had ever built up. "See? Kind." A small smile crept over their lips before they lowered their hand again and let go of his. In that moment, he heard the door open and whipped around wide-eyed, to see Adan standing there, out of breath. "Is...everything alright?" Cullen looked down at Adaar again, who seemingly had fallen asleep, and he simply turned and walked out wordlessly, his whole body buzzing with electricity.


	11. Take me to church

"Come closer little boy, don't be scared. I have such pretty games I wish to play with you." The voice lulling him into safety was like poisoned honey, thick and green in the darkness. He swallowed, hard; he knew it had to be a trap. But the face...it was _her_ face..surely _she_ wouldn't lie to him. The woman beckoned him closer with a beguiling look and there seemed to be a shimmer surrounding her, a halo of cold glimmering rich silver. It drew him in like a magnet, and all he wanted was to be encircled in it too, to be part of the light in the darkness around them.

Hesitantly but like in a trance, he stepped up to the figure which was now drenched in light. Cullen's gaze was fixed on her, the image of pure beauty and grace. Something in his heart was awakened by her, something he had thought dead already. A longing that was ancient and pure and wild rose inside his soul, to be held, to be safe and close to this being of light, to become part of her power.

"Did you miss me, little boy?" Her voice was pure like new glass, like cold lake water rippling over his skin, and it drowned out every other thought in his mind.

Was this magic? He could not care less. She was too beautiful, too warm and he felt so at home here. "Y..yes. I always do. You know I do." Slowly, he approached her even further but he could feel an eerie, uncomfortable heat rising at his core - something was not quite right about this.

Cullen knew he had seen her before, but somehow that seemed too good to be true. Surely nothing so beautiful and wondrous had entered his life before.

"Come, now. Let me embrace you, darling." He stopped abruptly just before her, his face now burning hot. Oh he did so want this, but she...there was something, if only he could remember..

"What's the matter, dear? Don't you love me anymore?" Cullen honestly couldn't recall if he did, all he knew was he wanted this and it was wrong, but, oh, he yearned for it still...maybe even more because of it. He felt his cheeks flush, his body stiffen, and the woman's face took on a strange expression, impatient almost.

He felt embarrassed, as if scolded by his mother. The woman's face was glowing from within, her eyes emeralds set in cold fire, and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint her.

"Oh, you Templar boys, always so chaste. But you are lying to yourself, are you not, little boy? You are not that pristine after all. I see the dark thoughts in your mind...oh, such wicked thoughts they are. _What a rotten mind you have_." Her last words seemed to echo around him, becoming solid and ensnare him with unseen tendrils and sinking small sticky hooks into him, numbing him all over.

Now he knew this was not right, and panic bubbled within him. She was not...this was not... And with a clarity that seemed like a slap in the face, he remembered, as if after years of repressed memories they now resurfaced, all at once.

"No... No Neria, you're....you're dead."

The woman sneered and her face quivered under the sheen of light, as if something else was about to break through. "Well, does it matter? I am here now, little Templar. Come, take what you so want, what you've always wanted."

He was convinced. It might not be real, but this was all he had and _if_ he could have it, only for a moment he wanted it, had to have it, now. He stepped into the core of brightest light surrounding her, and it encased him like thick fresh cream. Her touch was warm, her skin, oh, so soft as she embraced him. He never wanted to let go, this was where he could die if need be.

Quietly, and with a hoarse metallic scratching in her voice, he now heard her chuckle. Slowly, he looked up at her face - had she always been this tall? But he saw it was not Neria at all. Her face...he knew it had been wrong, it was...Maker, no, were those....horns? He panicked. _Demon_.

Cullen tried to step back, but the creature had him tightly in its grip. Would he be denied even this simple short moment of peace? "No...Neria, please..." But it was not the kind elven woman's face looking at him now, it was...it seemed familiar somehow, those eyes...

"Don't you like me anymore, Commander? I know you are enjoying this - maybe a little too much..." And suddenly, with full force, he recognized them, it was...no, Andraste, no, please...it was not a demon's horns on the figure holding him, but it was also not Neria, it.. _Maker, it's the Herald_.

"Such foul thoughts your mind comes up with, boy. Was one not enough? You needed to come back for more, didn't you? Well, I don't mind...you're soft, and so tasty, little Templar." Cullen was shaking like a leaf, this was not right, _no, it's not real._ It couldn't be.

"Don't be shy little boy, you need it, don't you? You need to feel it again, it has been so long..." Its grip on him tightened even more and he felt himself gasp for air, choking in the miasma that surrounded them now. "P...please...don't hurt me." The Herald's voice which had lulled him into a stupor where all strength left him suddenly changed, and it got hot around him where they touched, too hot to bear. In a deep roar, the demon laughed at him, and he could feel sharp claws digging inside his back. "You're the one who keeps coming back for more, boy."

It hurt, Maker, it always did. Searing, slicing, tearing into him while sheer terror filled his every thought and choked his lungs til they threatened to collapse, til it got too much to bear, and with a gasp, he sat up; cold sweat covering him, his head swimming with fear while his heart pounded in his chest and his hands shook like dry autumn leaves.

A dream. It was just a dream. Cullen tried to catch his breath as if he had been running for miles.

He ran a hand across his face, Maker, would this never stop? Every other night she came back to haunt him. _No, not her_. A demon. Mocking his once soft, childish feelings and his pain...and now... His face burned as he thought of the demon in the image of the Herald...close to him, and shame spread within him. This was wholly unworthy. He would need to pray for the Maker to help him strengthen his spirit, he could not let these lying, foul demons in any more. Not like this.

Dazed, he stepped out into the sunlight. The day was already a lively bustle, and he was ravenous. The cool breeze from the lake shook the heavy thoughts from his mind somewhat, and he started toward the town, trying to steady his hands and his shaky breath. Recruits were saluting him, and a messenger stopped to hand him papers mid-square before the flight of stairs just past the gate.

Cullen listened to the report summary from the man impatiently, sent him off and leafed through the papers. It was a lot, but it was good; the efforts in the Hinterlands were finally progressing and they would need to -

A shuffle of feet and a familiar voice shook him from his contemplation as he stood in the square deep in thoughts and his head snapped up. "Good morning, Commander. Heavy reading, this early?"

He lifted his eyes with an annoyed scowl, he did not like to be interrupted, his recruits should know that by now - but, oh, it was not a soldier addressing him. For a moment he stared at the person in front of him as he found himself unable to reply. The images from his wretched dream were all at once before him again, and with them racing through his head like an unstoppable fleeing horse, the heat rose up his neck. Cullen tried to steady himself, and cleared his throat; he must look like a fool.

"Herald. Good morning." He bowed and a slight smirk seemed to appear on their face, which he registered with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"You're up. Are you feeling better?" Again, his vision started to swim with images burning behind his forehead. _You know how I know?_  

He swallowed and looked at the Herald wordlessly for a moment, his hands clutching the papers, his body frozen in place, buzzing with a nervous, uneasy energy. Finally, they replied, sounding a little tired but otherwise oddly cheerful, compared to the heavy mood the night he had last seen them.

It had been a few days, but it seemed ever present in his mind. "I am. It's good to be out again, and I am _starving_. Care to accompany me to breakfast? I bet you haven't even eaten yet, and you're working already." Adaar clicked their tongue in what he thought to be a mocking manner, but their face seemed to be without malice. _You have kind eyes_.

He drew in a breath and tried yet again to steady his hands which still shook despite his best efforts. "Yes, Herald. I was headed there myself.", he managed, though the words tumbled out like rocks from his dry mouth.

Adaar shook their head and held out a hand, mentioning to the reports he was holding. _Close, too close._  "Give me those. It's too early for that, the sun's barely up." He tried to protest wordlessly, but of course, they would not relent and he dutifully handed the stack of papers over. "You'll get those back after we've put some food in you." Defeated, he sighed and walked to the tavern with them, now feeling entirely without guard as he had handed the reports over, and his hands started fidgeting again.

Cullen could not find any words in the leaden silence they ate in and kept glancing over at the papers, desperate for a distraction from his racing thoughts in the stuffy tavern where he felt somewhat trapped. He heard the Herald chuckle and looked up. "I _see_ you eyeing those, Commander. Man, don't you ever stop working?" Cullen sighed and put down his fork, barely able to eat anyway as despite his hunger, an uneasy queasiness clutched his stomach. "There is much to do, your Worship."

Adaar groaned quietly and fell back in their chair. "Please, it's too _early_ for such formalities." While both were silent for a moment, they surveyed his face, making him avert his gaze. "Aren't you tired? You look tired."

Cullen felt electrified by their voice, recalling the demon copying it in his dreams and he tried to straighten his back, his thoughts reaching a boiling point in his head. _Such pretty games I wish to play with you._  He shuddered. "I am fine, Herald. Do not concern yourself. It will not impact my performance."

Adaar snorted while leaning forward to sip their coffee and shooting him an incredulous look over the mug. "Alright, Commander. First, I'm not concerned about your... _performance_." At this, they raised an eyebrow sarcastically. "Second, that's because you're a human, a person, and not a magical construct which you expect to just function. And third, man, you are a _terrible_ liar." Adaar laughed and he felt each word seared into his skin. _They're...mocking you._

He looked down wordlessly and pushed himself back from the table with a grim expression. "Herald. If that is all, I need to get back to work." _You're a good man_.

So they _had_ been making fun of him and, fool that he was, he had not sen it. He felt a sting in his chest. "Commander?" He looked up and his expression must have given away his hurt feelings despite his best efforts to conceal them. "You...ah, fuck." Adaar put their hands in their lap and shook their head. "I'm sorry, I'm not my most eloquent in the morning. I'm just...look, I, I didn't come to offend you, Commander."

He shot them a wary look, and they chuckled dryly, sending further daggers into his constricted chest. "I, _ugh_ , I meant to do quite the opposite actually. I need to apologize for how I behaved." Cullen's heart skipped a beat and his ears started ringing as he heard their next words, dampened through a whooshing sound of blood pounding in his head. _No, please, no_ , he only wanted to forget that had ever happened. But the Herald continued.

"I don't really remember a lot, only that I interrupted a war room meeting and I must've talked a whole lot of nonsense.." Cullen's breath was shallow, his mouth dry.  _See? Kind_.

They looked at him and fidgeted under the table. "I uh, I heard you guided me back to my cabin. If I...said anything rude or...?" He only wanted to leave now, but Adaar kept going. "Look, whatever I said you shouldn't take at face value. It was probably garbage, and I'm sorry for saying it." _You're a good man. Everything about you is good._

Cullen scoffed lightly, slinking back in his chair now, and Adaar was silent for a moment. "That bad, huh?" He was ready to be done with this, but the Herald shot him an expectant look. All the strength seemed to have left him, and he felt incredibly tired. "It...was actually quite kind."

Now they let out a dry laugh. "Well that must've been a mistake." _Enough_. Cullen rose, and the Herald jumped up with him. "Wait!" He reached for the papers, but they took his hand, sending a shiver up his spine. "That was a joke, Commander. Shit, I'm really bad at this. Look, if you want to tell me what..." He wrenched his hand free, and they let go, surprise and confusion on their face. "It does not bear repeating, Herald. Do not concern yourself. Good day."

* * *

Huh. That had gone well. _You idiot. You fucking moron_. But was it their fault the Commander was so completely without humor? _Fuck_. No, it wasn't his fault. What the hell had happened that day they'd decided to leave their cabin in a feverish daze? Adaar finished their coffee hastily; _damn it,_ they were already late.

The meeting had gone by in an exceedingly awkward manner as Adaar had kept looking at Cullen and his face had given away nothing, his answers were professional and short, but never really addressed to them. Adaar was at a loss. What a terribly frustrating man this Commander was.

Josephine and Leliana seemed to take note of the tense air, but mercifully, they did not address it. When they had finally finished, the Commander rushed out wordlessly and Adaar was only too happy to get out themself. They tried to keep up with him but it was impossible, he practically sprinted off. _Maybe I should not press this further_.

Adaar stopped and huffed, as they heard someone come up beside them and turned. It was Dorian, looking effortlessly gorgeous as always. How he did this in a camp in the mountains, full of hay and soot, was beyond Adaar who regularly looked like an old dirty dish towel themself.

"Hello, Herald. What has the Commander's knickers in a bunch today? I greeted him when he left the tavern this morning, and the sound I got as a reply was barely human. He's lucky he's so pretty, otherwise I might be sore." Adaar shook their head and rubbed a temple, thinking back to their disastrous morning chat.

"Dorian...he's...he just has a lot of work right now." The man scoffed and crossed his arms in his standoffish, scolding manner. "Oh, Adaar, what did you do? Sounds like you are in trouble! Did you offend Andraste's pyre or commit a similar atrocity?" Adaar sighed, not in the mood to address this right this moment, also they now saw Josephine come toward the two, and cursed themself for not taking off like the Commander.

"Herald. Good morning Dorian. Well, that was...arduous." The Antivan shook her curls and looked at them exasperated. Adaar wished they had never gotten up today. But it was no use, these two would not relent, they knew. "I...think I might have said something in my painkiller-induced craze that I shouldn't have. Josephine, what in blazes did I do?"

The Ambassador shook her head and her hands were now folded together neatly, which always meant trouble. "Nothing more than stagger into a meeting while I was there, but I cannot say what transpired after you both left for your cabin, Herald." She seemed very displeased and Adaar felt like a reprimanded child. "I'm sorry. I think I should go talk to him."

Dorian laughed, loud and sarcastically. "If you dare, Herald. You might find this monster a bit harder to slay than the ones you usually fight, but I wish you luck!" He held up his hands in a teasing manner and started to take off. " _You're_ lucky you're pretty or I'd plant a boot in that face. You're no help at all!"

Josephine gasped lightly beside them as the Tevinter chuckled and traipsed off toward the tavern. "Sorry, Ambassador." They looked at the woman sheepishly but they could see she enjoyed all this drama to a degree. "You _should_ go talk to him, Herald. He can be quite difficult and we have too much to do for him to get in a mood." With that, she bowed and headed back to the Chantry, leaving Adaar none the wiser. They cursed under their breath _. I guess I have to figure this one out myself._

* * *

The day was hot and the air more stale than usual. Adaar had spent it finally getting their gear repaired ( _Nasty gash there, Worship. Will take me a while to fix._ ), and getting all the supplies in order which they would need before heading out to the Hinterlands again. Adaar shivered slightly at the thought, but it was no use, of course. Those two last fade rifts could not be left to ravage the country and spew out demons attacking travelers in the woods.

As they headed back to their cabin from the stables, they saw the troops' training had just finished, and soldiers were getting ready to get supper. In the midst of it, as always, sat the Commander, wiping his sword with a cloth. On his face, they could see a deep scowl darkening his face. _Oh the recruits must have had a blast today_. Adaar stood a few paces away and looked over to the man. Then, with a heavy sigh, they walked over. _No time like the present._  

He apparently did not hear them approach, and was still engrossed in cleaning his sword. He rubbed his neck in a nervous, irritated manner when they were standing behind him and coughed slightly. "Commander."

He looked around bewildered and the scowl on his face deepened when he saw Adaar. "Herald. Was there something you needed?" They shifted from one foot to the other and scratched the base of their horns on their forehead. After a moment of silence he looked away and at his sword, seeming impatient and tired. Adaar cleared their throat. _Get on with it you stupid ox._

"I...I wanted to..." Damn it, why was this so freaking hard? He gave Adaar a weak look and they could have slapped themself. "I wanted to apologize." With a sigh, he sheathed his sword and got up from the wooden stool on the pier. "Please. Do not concern yourself." His voice was a low, dismissive tone that was maybe meant to sound neutral and factual, but they could hear the anger below it. "If that is all, I need to be going." _Oh no. You're not getting away again_.

Adaar held out a hand and he stopped. "There's something you need to see. Please come." He hesitated at first, but ever dutiful, he bowed slightly and followed Adaar off to the woods. This title did have some perks, at least.

Their walk away from the camp was spent in total silence, and they could feel how uncomfortable he was. _Right there with you, Commander._

The two entered the lush green thicket at the forest's border, and Adaar lead him off through the trees and towards a beaten path around a stump, into an part where the undergrowth got denser. They could feel him fidget behind them, but he did not speak. "Not much further now. There's a hidden path here, used mainly by the rams." He did not answer, but he also kept close behind them.

They followed the narrow trail for a while and finally, after rounding a large pine tree, they both stepped out into a small clearing right by the lake. Adaar could hear him draw in a breath. It was quiet, save for the birds lazily singing their evening song, and the sun was setting to the right, casting its orange glow on the ice. Right by the edge of the water, small blue and purple flowers bloomed, and a little further back stood an old bench, the wood grey and bleached from the sun and rain.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" The trees framed the area so that they were shielded off from the town, and the evergreens growing over the lower branches of the trees above created a small grove around the bench. "It is." He seemed wary still. "Why are we here?" Adaar gestured toward the bench. "This is where I come to get some quiet. Come, sit." They took a seat on the right of the small wooden plank and Cullen hesitated, but when they mentioned toward the empty space to their left again, he slowly sat as well. 

Neither of them spoke at first, the wind whooshing through the treetops behind and above them, and Adaar felt the tenseness leave their shoulders slowly. Cullen himself fidgeted and finally broke the silence. "What are we doing here, Herald?" Adaar chuckled and looked over at the man. "You are entirely without patience, aren't you?" But when they saw a shadow fall over his face again, they raised their hands apologetically. _Come on, Adaar. Get it together._

With a sigh, Adaar surveyed the lake and forced themself to speak. No more hesitation. _You owe it to him._ "I...ugh. I am...not cut out for this, you know?" 

Cullen gave them a questioning look as they leaned back on the bench exasperated, and fidgeted with his gloves. "There's so many people relying on me, and always surrounding me, and I...get nervous." The Commander seemed confused but stayed silent. "And when I get nervous I make up for it with sarcasm and jokes. It's a facade. A mask I hide behind, so people don't see I'm...well, terrified." Cullen stared at them and opened his mouth to speak, but Adaar held up a hand and he kept quiet.

"I'm not scared of the enemy we face, no more than is healthy at least. And I _will_ face it, make no mistake. But I have never had a place where so many people were relying on me, and I am _stupefied_ with fear that I'll let them down. They put so much hope in me, and everyone is doing their best at all times, and I am terrified I won't do the right thing."

There was a pause before Cullen spoke, his voice was now a bit softer than before, but very low. "You will, Herald. You always have, so far." Adaar shook their head and shifted their whole body on the bench to fully face the man. "Please. There is no need for formalities here - no one can fucking hear us. It's why I like to come here. When it gets too much." Cullen seemed to withdraw a bit as they turned and Adaar sighed.

They reached under the bench and brought forth a small Mabari figurine with a stone bowl at its feet. The Commander seemed taken aback and stared at Adaar questioningly. "I found this in a market in Redcliffe. I think it's supposed to be a...well, actually I have no idea. But I use it for this." Adaar produced a handful of incense and a tinder box from their belt, placed the figurine in front of them in the grass and lit the resin. A small stream of blue smoke rose up and surrounded them with a sweet scent.

They sat down on the bench again, leaning back and listened to the birds and the waves lapping at the shore. Cullen was quiet and they could feel his tenseness. _Man, is he always on? Nothing can hurt you here Commander._

After a while he spoke again, in the same soft voice, and they had trouble understanding him despite the hushed silence of the forest around them. "But I thought...you're not faithful, are you?" Adaar smirked and kept their gaze fixed on the water. "I don't follow the Chantry's teachings, but I believe in magic, in spirits _and_ in getting some quiet. Now, I've seen your church - it's only fair that you should see mine. The forest is where I am most at ease; I grew up in it, and it feels like home. I want to offer this place, if you ever...need some quiet yourself, it is yours as well. But please keep it to yourself."

He seemed to be deep in thought, and Adaar was only too happy for some silence after their awkward speech, so for a while they listened to the low sounds of the forest, both of them encircled by the rising, scented smoke. Cullen looked over the lake and Adaar felt strangely at peace next to the man, even though he was in their place of refuge, which they had never wanted to share with anyone.

After a while, he spoke, and some of the tenseness had left his voice finally. "Herald I...thank you for showing me this." Adaar looked over at the Commander; he seemed moved and very earnest, and it made them blush. They nodded and looked down at their hands. _Now for the difficult part._

"Look, I don't remember what I said or did, but it seems I have offended you, and if that is the case, I am truly sorry. I also need to apologize for how poorly I handled things this morning. I am...bad at letting people close and being sincere. So I make up for it with jest, but I feel like that made everything worse." Adaar carefully looked over at the man, and he was staring at the ground, no discernible emotion on his face. "You have to remember I am just a lumbering, clumsy Qunari, Ser. We are not very smart."

Finally, he looked at them and seemed surprised. "That is not true, Herald, you-" Adaar laughed lightly, and he seemed to wince at that. _Idiot. You're on slippery terrain still._ They felt like they were handling a flighty wild animal.

"That was a joke, Commander. See, I'm doing it again." He furrowed his brows and looked at Adaar for what felt like a long time. They started to get nervous and shifted in their seat, but his face suddenly seemed to light up, if only a little bit.

"Herald, I-" Adaar shook their head. "You know my name - titles don't mean anything here." He seemed taken aback and nervous. "I...but I, Herald.." Adaar chuckled and gave in. _Alright then, Mr. proper procedures._  

"Alright, have it your way. It's getting late. I should head back to camp. I...are you.." He stood and Adaar got up as well nervously. But he only bowed and when he looked up again he gave them the smallest smile, barely visible, but they saw it and beamed at him, eternally relieved. 


	12. Breaking point

The whole town was buzzing with life already when Adaar headed to the smith, always getting up just a little too late these days, but most days they were dead tired, and the healing wound in their right side ached and prodded still.

The troops were getting ready to head out as well, and there was much to do before they could get going. A final war table meeting, a multitude of things to prepare before their journey tomorrow. Adaar headed up to the Chantry, where Josephine and Leliana were already waiting for them at the entrance.

"Is something wrong?" Adaar stepped up to them, and the Ambassador shook her head. "No, Herald, we simply meant to ask... are you well enough to head out?" They both seemed concerned, which was strange since Adaar felt pretty great, and had been for a few days now. Adaar mentioned inside and the three headed to the war room together where Adaar swung the door open and punched the wounded side of their torso lightly with their opposite hand. "Better than ever. I feel fine."

That was, of course, a lie and they wished they hadn't just fucking done that, as the area around where the gash had been was still very much bruised. Doing so, Adaar heard a small gasp from within the room. It was the Commander, who had now stood up and looked at Adaar, wide-eyed. They struggled to breathe for a moment, but still managed to saunter into the room confidently before plopping down into a chair and choking out a, "Really, I'm fine. Let's get started."

Throughout the meeting, people kept eyeing Adaar strangely, Cassandra was present this time as well to give input on the rift situation, and she kept looking at Adaar whenever the others were talking. When all matters concerning the expedition seemed dealt with and people got ready to leave, Adaar got up and held up a hand.

"One moment. Is...something the matter?" Everyone looked up and at the Herald, silently. Clearly, something was the matter, but no one would tell them. "...Anything I should know?"

Suddenly, the Seeker spoke to Adaar's right, her voice a strange somber tone. "I...Herald. I only wished to offer my deepest-" But the woman was cut off by the Spymaster in an angry whisper. "Cassandra!" Leliana had taken her arm, but the woman shook her off obliviously and went on. "My _deepest condolences_ , Herald."

Adaar felt their face getting hot in an instant, and their whole body slightly shook all of a sudden. "Wh- what's going on? Condolences why? What happened?" They looked around the room for answers, but all they got where empty faces and concerned stares. _Was it...no...it can't be my parents, please, no.._  

Cassandra looked at them with sympathy. "It's only...your brother, Herald. I'm so sorry." The words hit Adaar like they'd stepped into a fire pit and the shaking stopped. Instead, anger slowly bubbled in the pit of their stomach. "What?" They only pressed it out in a hissing whisper, but everybody seemed to hear.

They looked at the Commander, who sat in his chair, wide-eyed and dumbly quiet, as always. "You...you fucking told them?!" Adaar's breaths came hard and fast now, and they stood up a bit too fast, the room swimming around them. "No, Herald, wait.." Adaar shot the Spymaster a look that could've killed. "Are my personal details nothing but a matter of gossip to you people?" No one said anything, and it was not needed. Furious, they pushed past the Ambassador at the door who seemed as much at a loss as the Commander, and rushed out of the Chantry, _only out of here._

* * *

"Congratulations, everyone. That was handled well by all of us I believe. Cassandra, what were you thinking?!"Leliana rubbed her temple and sighed.

Cullen's head was swimming, while he heard the others talk like through a haze. How...how did they know? Had someone seen them? "And you, Commander, you knew as well?" He stood up, slowly. "And what if I did?" Leliana shook her head. "We only just found out ourselves. We have made contact with their parents and were...informed of his passing. This was _not_ how we planned to handle it." She shot Cassandra a dirty look, who only stood there, dumbfounded.

Josephine spoke first. "We had better go find them. This is not a good state for the Herald to be traveling in, especially with their recent injury." The three of them set out, and Cullen stayed back, rubbing his neck. This was not good. 

 

* * *

 

He was leafing through his reports absentmindedly when someone stepped up behind him. The Spymaster had a grim look on her face when he turned to face her. "...And?" She shook her head. "No one knows where they are. I wish they didn't have this tendency of disappearing." Cullen put down the stack of papers and threw on his coat again. "I think I have an idea where they could be, but I better go alone." He shot her a look. "That means _alone_ , Spymaster. No...entourages, please." Leliana did not seem pleased, but she nodded and took off toward the town again.

He had quite some difficulty finding the small trail again, but after a while of searching he found the right stump and turned. Maker, it was hard navigating this forest without Adaar leading the way. He hoped to Andraste he was right and didn't waste everyone's time coming here. As he turned round the large tree, he saw the bench and two curled horns, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Adaar whipped around as they heard him rustling in the undergrowth, and stood. "No, oh _hell no_. You do not get to fucking come here now." Cullen saw the anger in their eyes, which was, frankly terrifying, but he was also so relieved to have found them. He stepped forward wanting to speak but they cut him off immediately. "What's the matter with you people? Leave! Now!" He saw ice crystals forming in their palms and the static of magic crackled in the air. "Herald, I..." They stepped around the bench, now furious. "I said fucking go!"

A bolt of blue and white shot past Cullen and he whirled around to see a large branch cracking and crashing to the ground behind him. He turned to the Herald again slowly, eyes wide and shaking. The magic was still buzzing and ice was now creeping up their arms. They locked eyes with him and scoffed. "Oh get over yourself, I wasn't freaking aiming for you."

With that, Adaar turned and pulled up an ice block on the lake in front of them, then shattering it into a million pieces which went flying around the Herald and Cullen, as he was still standing there, frozen in terror. " _Fuck_!" They turned again and he must have been white as a sheet. "You're _still here_! Ugh!" With the force of a wild animal, Adaar rushed over to him and grabbed his arm, the cold from their hand creeping through the cloth as they pushed him away, not too hard but it was enough, and he staggered and fell. They were breathing heavily as they stood over him.

"What is it that you fucking want?! What can't you just _leave me alone_?" Adaar was shaking and there were tears in their eyes now, freezing around their lashes in the cold that surrounded the two. Cullen had trouble catching his breath and quaking before them, he stared at the ice crystals which were covering them almost up to their shoulders now and thickened into a glossy sheen.

Adaar looked down at their hands, then at him and then stood there wordlessly for a moment, before they extended a hand and Cullen winced on the ground before them. But there was no ice bolt flying toward him, they just held out their their ungloved hand, their face still a stony cold image of fury. He did not move.

With an annoyed sigh, they shook the ice from their hands violently, and offered their hand again with emphasis. Cullen now slowly sat up and took it, and Adaar yanked him up harshly. When he was standing again, they let go of him and silently turned to sit on the bench. Without looking at him the Herald stated coldly, "Now leave."

But he didn't. Instead, he found himself walking up to them slowly like you approach a wild dog, and stood beside the bench for a moment. Adaar looked up incredulously. "What the hell do you want?" It seemed like they were still furious, but their voice sounded as if they wanted to cry, Cullen thought. He shifted from one leg to the other. "Herald, I'm...sorry." They scoffed. "You're sorry. Well that's great. I want to be _alone_." Cullen stepped closer but stopped when he saw an icy sheen creeping their fingers again. "I didn't know. I never..." He felt foolish; did it really matter at this point?

"You never what? Told them?" He nodded. "Well then how the hell....oh my fucking-" The Herald fell back on the bench, looking up into the canopy exasperated.

"Leliana." Adaar looked up at him with fury in their eyes and Cullen simply nodded again. "That's fucking worse! She's spying on me, I know, but she saw?!" He quickly held up a hand. "No, Herald, she...contacted your parents. She must have only found out recently." Adaar stared at him and suddenly all strength and fury seemed to have left them at once, their voice now a thin whsiper. "She...spoke to them?"

A short, dry laugh escaped their throat. "Well, now you know why I never introduced them to all of you." Cullen of course did not know, and looked at them quizzically.

"They hate me, Cullen - they blame me for his death! Damn it!" He staggered back a bit as they buried their face in their hands and started crying - low, quiet sobs. _Cullen_.

His heart was racing as he gingerly stepped closer again, the ice was back now and covered their shoulders as well, a fine layer of white crystals. Cullen sat down beside them carefully. Adaar shot up and stared at him, eyes wide and red, tears covering their cheeks and freezing on their face in white glistening tracks. 

He slowly and gingerly put his hand on Adaar's shoulder, and and finally, the ice slowly receded, back down their arms, toward their fingertips, and finally disappearing. A pink glow returned on their skin, making them seem less like a magical construct and more like a person.

Cullen felt as if he'd just narrowly escaped death, but the Herald seemed less like a ferocious killer and more like a fragile, scared child now. "I'm sorry.", he whispered. It was all he could think of.

Adaar scoffed between sobs. "Aren't you afraid I'll impale you with magic?" He felt his face soften and squeezed their shoulder carfully. "No." _Not anymore._


	13. A little party never killed nobody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...wait, or did it?

"And then I pushed the stinkin' demon bastard forward, Bull jumped up behind me and sliced his axe down, shattering it into a thousand pieces! I swear, the look on the farmer's face afterwards was priceless. All he cared about was his damn prized druffalo!" Bull roared with laughter, and the Chargers raised their cups with a "Horns up!" that echoed through the tavern.

Sera was too drunk to care, Dorian was telling a quip of his own to some enthralled servant girls and Cassandra only shook her head smirking, sipping at her beer. The expedition had gone well, all the rifts had been closed and the area secured. Varric raised his tankard and winked at Adaar, and for once they felt at peace.

"The druffalo was fine, by the way, not that any of you seem to be too concerned!" More laughter followed, and Adaar felt a warm buzz. They didn't drink too often, their magic was harder to control then and they'd made some bad choices in the past. They had to admit this was nice though. Still, some fresh air would be welcome now, the tavern got way too stuffy way too soon. Adaar excused themself to many protests and headed outside. 

The cool night air whirled around their head, and Adaar leaned against the wooden wall of the building, their head swimming lightly. This was nice. All this Herald talk and all the attention got to their head though, and not in a good, confidence-inducing way. It only made them more nervous and somehow they were now on edge all the time. Alcohol was not a solution they relied on often, but it did take the sharpness out of reality for a while.

Someone stepped outside in the dark next to them, Adaar saw now. Slowly, the blurry outline came sauntering over. "Nice party, Herald. You sure know how to please a crowd." They looked over and saw Krem beaming at them. His cheeks were reddened and his hair fell into his face in messy short strands. Adaar felt their blood quicken a bit. _The two of us alone out here, what will the people say?_

The stocky Tevinter soldier stood next to them now, leaning his shoulder against the tavern wall. Adaar smelled rich cedar soap on him, and the strong Qunari alcohol Bull had passed around, which they had smartly avoided. "Thanks, Krem. Enjoying yourself?" He nodded.

Krem was not wearing his armor today, and they saw the outlines of his muscular arms were visible even in this light. Did he choose that very tight fitting tunic on purpose? He must be on the hunt, Adaar mused.

"Then what are you doing out here?" The man smirked and gestured towards Adaar. "I thought I'd see if you're alright, Worship. You just up and left your own party." 

They shook their head, chuckling. "It's all of our party, Krem. And please don't call me that. Name's Adaar; there's no need to be so formal." He laughed, and leaned a bit closer. "If you say so. I aim to please." Adaar looked him up and down and slowly felt a warmth spread through them that they couldn't all put down to the alcohol.

"You know, you and the boss don't really have a lot in common.." he slurred after a while. Adaar chuckled hoarsely in reply. "Why, because I wear shirts?" He laughed, loudly and fully, his voice reverberating with a drunken easiness. It sounded warm and homely in their ears.

"Yes, that's one of the reasons. You know, Bull was the only real picture I've had of Qunari so far, aside from his spy friends. I have to say I'm rather grateful for the new insight your presence has provided."

Adaar rolled their head over against the hard surface of the wooden wall in a light daze and saw the flicker of torches reflecting in his warm hazel eyes. He always had a calming effect on them somehow. "Is that a compliment or just a very low bar crossed?" In the half-dark, this conversation took a strange, forbidden turn, and Adaar enjoyed it.

Krem lifted a hand to his heart feigning offense, and gasped. "I would never dare to try and flatter the Herald of Andraste so crudely." Adaar laughed and pushed themself off of the wall. "Shame. I guess I'll go back inside then." They felt light and giddy, something that didn't happen often, but they did not want to take it too far. Or did they? It was hard to tell with all the alcohol swirling around in their head, damn it, this is why they didn't drink..

The Tevinter stepped forward and up to Adaar with a strange sparkle in his eyes, and they stopped in their tracks. It was only polite not to walk away now. He was facing Adaar now with them looming over the man, but it didn't interfere with his spunk at all as he smirked up confidently.

"That's fairly close, soldier. You're not intending to break decorum are you?" He took another step toward them and was now so close his boots almost touched theirs.

"Never, Herald. Nothing would be further from my-" Adaar took the next step shrinking the gap between them even further, and placed a hand on his chest softly. Krem froze and surprisingly didn't make a move, which calmed Adaar's now racing pulse a bit. He was handsome, with his high cheekbones and a warmness in his eyes that pulled Adaar closer. Adaar found themself wondering if the rest of him was that well-trained. _Bull sure keeps his troops in good shape._

"Well, then I guess I'll have to do it myself."

Adaar swiftly pulled him closer with their other hand and he gasped lightly. He was warm and strong as they could now feel very well, but he wrapped his arm around Adaar so gently as if he was holding a bird. Adaar's breathing quickened and their blood was pumping fast and hot with alcohol. His body was taut and muscular, and he was so very close, they thought they could hear his heartbeat.

Adaar looked in his soft eyes and moved one hand up to his neck, caressing his smooth skin while he gently moved his hand further upward on their back gripping their shirt and breathing hard. A soft moan escaped his throat as Adaar's body melted into his strong torso. They could just pick him up and carry him off right now..

A crash followed by a scream and shouting behind them made them both turn, wide-eyed and fairly out of breath, still entangled and as if ripped out of a dream. A commotion was audible just a few paces away to the left. "What the..." Adaar let go of the perplexed man and he of them, and both rushed over as he drew his sword from his side.

A small crowd had gathered, with three people in the midst who seemed engaged in a serious quarrel. Adaar saw a mage, a young woman with crossed arms across from two men. As they got closer, their breath caught in their dry throat for a moment. Across from the mage were two Templars - they seemed drunk and somewhat agitated, yelling obscenities at the woman. All they could make out were slurred insults toward the mage, and the situation seemed to get more heated by the second.

They turned to face Krem, sobering up quickly, but their head was still buzzing and their vision a tad unfocused. "Stay here. Get help if needed." The man nodded solemnly as Adaar pushed past a few onlookers and swiftly stepped firmly before the woman, standing up to their full height. 

This seemed to throw the Templars off for a moment, but they recovered quickly, drunken anger burning in their eyes. "And there we have the root of all this evil. The heretic mage that calls itself Herald of our lady Andraste. But look! Don't you see? It is just a dirty Oxman, blinding all of you with its magic!"

Adaar scoffed and crossed their arms as well. "That's all? You couldn't come up with anything better? Why don't you leave this woman alone and get the hell out of here, before you fall on your big mouths, you duds. I will deal with you both tomorrow." But they did not seem intent to do so and kept on hurling insults toward the mage, so Adaar turned to the woman to tell her to leave as the situation seemed more and more unstable.

As soon as they'd done so, Adaar felt a push from behind and whipped around, anger boiling up in their swimming head. They heard several gasps from the crowd. This was not good.

"Fucking mage. We should just lock you all away again and we'd have no more of all these holes in the sky and demons killing our good people!" Adaar balled their hands up in fists with their muscles tense already, but resolved to stay calm. "The demons are killing mages too you know. A pronounced flaw in your logic there." Fuck these Templars were stupid.

Having this conundrum thrown their way, the Templars seemed even more agitated, cursing until one of the men suddenly stepped forward. _Alright, bring it on, fuckers._

"What's going on here?!" The Commander's voice was booming through the night air as the crowd suddenly parted to let the man through and Adaar was thrown off guard for a moment.

"Herald?" He stopped and looked at the three, scowling. One of the drunk men threw his hands up and gestured toward the Commander wildly and erratically. "And you. Fucking mage-lover!" The Templar spat the last word out while the one beside him only laughed. "You were one of us once. Now you are just as bad as them, even worse!" Cullen seemed unmoved by this and simply stared them down. "That's enough." His voice was calm but they felt a tenseness to him that was almost palpable.

The Templar shook his head. "It will never be enough. Not while they're still standing!" He drew his sword in a motion that seemed far too quick for a man of his inebriation and took a swing at the female mage. Adaar saw it coming down on them and drew up a barrier, but they were drunk and slow and it came up just a little too late.

The sword cleaved through it and sliced into Adaar's shoulder, the searing pain blurring their vision in an instant. All they saw for a moment was a flash of silver, and in the next, the Templar's head was cleaved in half before them, blood gushing forward and his face grotesquely sliding off to one side before he collapsed to the ground.

In an instant, Cullen was on the other Templar, but the man dropped his sword, held up his hands defensively and cowered. _"Restrain this man!"_ Adaar heard the Commander's words through a wall of booze and confused pain _._ Two guards who had come with the Commander had the Templar in chains immediately and dragged him off. 

Adaar's gaze was fixed on the man before them, his head split open, pink brain matter was pouring onto the ground between cracks in the snowy white bone. And there was blood, pools of it, now trickling forth slowly and thick from the cleft in the man's head. This was all oddly fascinating and they realized they felt giddy. Someone spoke to them, it seemed, but they could not really make out the words. 

A vague outline of a person Adaar saw out of the corner of their eye yelled out orders they could not decipher through the ringing in their head. "..erald....hear me?" The buzzing in their ears was too loud and they felt nauseous, dizzy. Adaar looked up and saw a tall silhouette in front of them. Strangely calm, they viewed it and watched as the person waved a hand around something protruding from their left side. They looked down and saw...a sword, _Templar sword_. Stuck in their shoulder still. It must've broken bone, they mused, and heard themselves chuckle. "Well shit."

At the sound of their own voice, they startled slightly and reality pulled itself back together around them. "..will pull the sword out now. Herald?!" They looked up - it was Cullen speaking and he seemed very concerned and spoke fast, too fast for them to follow so they simply nodded.

He grabbed the hilt and with a controlled motion and de-lodged it from their shoulder with a crunch that made Adaar sick. Not a moment later, he was pressing a piece of cloth on the now gushing wound, and pulled their right arm over his shoulders. They were only too glad for it, for their legs left them now.


	14. Rain every day, fog all night

He had his difficulties maneuvering the stairs to Adan's hut, half-carrying the Herald, half-pressing the cloth onto their bleeding angry wound. It had all happened so fast, but that was no excuse. He had failed the Herald, and if he could kill the man again, _by Andraste he would_. The Healer had already been notified and he was now waiting in the door, sleep in his eyes. He looked at Cullen with a scowl. "Do you have to go round sword fighting at this hour, Commander?" Adan growled the words but Cullen pushed past him unimpressed, paying him no mind. "Help the Herald. Now." The older man simply groaned and pulled the door shut behind them.

Candles were already lit inside and Adan produced several bundles of herbs from a corner; there were a needle and thread ready on the table. Adan pushed Cullen aside and he stepped back in a daze while the healer removed the makeshift bandage, uncovering an angry well of bloody ruin in the Herald's shoulder.

The gash ran several inches long, Cullen could see it now laid out in all its gory terror. Blood was thankfully no longer streaming fast from it, but the movement of laying the Herald on the bed hadn't helped and it started oozing again, dark and thick. Cullen had seen this a thousand times, but his stomach turned and his skin now felt clammy, with every muscle in his body stiffened while his heart pounded like a hammer. Adan eyed the Commander over his shoulder with a scowl still, but his voice somehow softened. "Don't you worry, I'll fix them up."

Wordlessly, he washed the wound with a hundred practiced movements, then laid a paste of sweetly sick smelling herbs inside it before sewing it up, and finally dressed it with fresh herbs and bandage as Cullen wrung his hands and paced up and down the stuffy room, watching.

Finally Adan spoke again, turning around from his patient. "The bone is fractured but I've set it for now and with some magic, it should heal right up. We need the bleeding to stop first, though. Get them to a bed." He didn't need to tell Cullen twice. The Herald was laying on the cot, awake, but very pale and absent-looking. Cullen stepped up to them gingerly - he was afraid to startle them further. "Herald. Let's get you to your cabin." They only looked up at him and nodded weakly, but Cullen's heart skipped a short beat and the stiffness in his body seemed to lessen.

People were staring left and right as they passed through town, the Herald swaying next to him with their uninjured arm draped over his shoulders. Cullen gruffly told the people to return to their quarters. The town was still in shock and chaos, and there was commotion at every corner.

He still couldn't believe what had just happened. Tensions had been rising while the Herald had been away on their latest trip, with the small town slowly overflowing with soldiers, mages and refugees, but he never expected it to escalate like this. For a former member of the Order to simply attack a peaceful mage, and then the _Herald_ , it was nothing he'd have seen coming. _But you should have_. Icy dread crept up his spine.

They came up to the tavern now, with the Herald breathing raggedly next to him, and he saw someone engaged in lively conversation. Cullen only saw their back but they were apparently trying to get a crowd of people to leave and seemed exasperated.

When the group saw the two of them approach they people slowly dispersed, and the man turned. Cullen now saw it was Krem, looking tired and like he'd sobered up a little too quickly. The man stepped up to them, but Cullen quickly held up a hand as disdain spread in his heart.

"Commander. Are they...is the Herald alright?" Cullen grunted and waved the man off. "The Herald is _wounded_ and needs rest, soldier." At that, Krem quickly stepped aside and looked after the two wordlessly, apparently not expecting such a response. _Good_. Cullen could feel his chest tightening and hot anger now crept up his neck.

"Herald, we are here, hang on. Soldier, open that door!" The guard at the Herald's cabin stared at the two wide-eyed and complied hastily. Cullen lead Adaar inside, more dragging their fairly heavy frame now than just assisting, and guided them over to the bed as the door was shut behind them, and the Qunari fell down onto it silently.

It was hot and quiet in the cabin, and Cullen went to open a window. The moonlight streamed in and with it, the cool night air. He leaned on the sill exhausted from dragging their large body around, when he heard the Herald groan behind him.

He turned and saw that they were sitting on the bed with their head in their hands. Cullen felt worried and a bit panicked, but also glad they were up. It couldn't be so bad then. "You should get some rest, Herald. I will station two more guards around your-"

The Herald looked up with effort and squinted at him while a frown appeared on their forehead. "Can you light a candle? I can't fucking _see_ in here." Cullen was taken aback but he nodded and went across the room to retrieve one. When he turned, he saw them trying to kick off their boots and they breathed in sharply, cursing.

Cullen stood there helplessly, watching. He was not trained for this. "Do you need...I mean, can I-" Adaar shook their head, and he could see they were in pain. _Stubborn_ , he thought. _As always._

He placed the now lit candle on the bedside table and Adaar had finally removed the heavy leather boots, now dragging their legs up onto the white linens. They leaned back and closed their eyes with a frown on their face. Cullen watched silently and with a knot in his stomach. When they didn't speak for a while, he turned to leave and get more guards, _reliable ones this time_ , and he heard rustling behind him. "You killed him."

Cullen looked back from halfway across the room, startled. There was that ice in his spine again. "He...attacked you, your Worship." Adaar simply stared at him silently, the candlelight flickering on their face, with an expression he could not quite pin down. "He was a Templar, and you just...split his head in half." They seemed almost offended at the thought and Cullen felt heat rise up his neck.

"And I would do it again, Herald, regardless of who attacked you. I only regret that you were wounded. I will not hesitate next time." Adaar scoffed and shook their head, looking away.

Cullen's stomach was a fiery knot. His next words came on their own, as if he heard someone else talking in his voice, and he sounded angry, and somewhat wounded. "Do you still not know where my allegiance lies, Herald? I serve you, and the Inquisition. Anything else is of no significance." Cullen felt immediate reproach after speaking to the Herald like this but the anger was settling firmly within him, his hands shaking slightly in the half-lit room. Their disbelief at the matter was like a dagger in his heart.

When they looked up again, they seemed almost sad. "I do now, Commander. ...Thank you." Cullen was at a loss. He bowed stiffly and turned to leave when he heard them speak again, this time quietly and almost gently. "Did you know him?"

With his hand on the door handle already, he replied in what was almost a whisper, and without turning around he slipped out into the night: "I did, Herald."

 

* * *

 

Cullen looked up at the early evening sky; the stars were already coming out timidly behind the wispy clouds across a lilac and orange backdrop. It was strangely quiet, even with the laughter and cheers across Haven. He rubbed the side of his face with a sigh and looked up once more at what was now merely a lightly glistening green scar in the sky where the Breach had been.

They had done it. The Herald and the mages had actually succeeded in closing the gaping horror together. He still could not believe it should finally be over; that all these people should now be safe.

A young soldier ran past him, then stopped and saluted with a wide smile, to which he only nodded. He had never been one for festivities, and they seemed to be in full progress now. The Herald had returned a while ago and he was imagining the people were busy carrying them through town. He would find them tomorrow to congratulate them on their victory when everything had quieted down a bit, glad no one seemed to pay him any mind right now.

They hadn't spoken a lot since the morbid incident with the former Templar, except for the regular war table meetings, but he assumed they had to be ecstatic. _And rightfully so_. Everyone had played a part in this, but it was the Herald's victory first and foremost.

Cullen picked up the stack of reports in front of him again and sighed. He could only hope he had done his part; that he had done enough. Maybe if he'd....

"Commander, are you avoiding us?" He whirled around; a woman's voice had ripped him out of his deep pondering suddenly.

Before him stood Leliana, with her hands behind her back and a slight smile on her face. _Of course. Maker, it was too good to be true_.

"Spymaster. I trust all is well. Did you need anything?" She only chuckled lightly in reply. "Commander, what are you doing down here working? This party is for everyone - you included." Cullen groaned and rolled his neck. "I have much to do still. I need to-"

Leliana stepped up briskly and shook her head. "Put down those papers, Commander. It's not really up for debate, you know. The Herald _did_ ask for you themself." He drew in a deep breath and looked at the woman like a dog whose bone is taken away before he finally put down the papers and secured them with a statuette of an iron fist. _I suppose they need me for some formality, Andraste preserve me_. "Very well then. Lead the way."

There was laughter in every corner of the town, and people were getting quite drunk. He followed the woman with a knot in his stomach; he'd never been keen on ceremonies but he supposed it had to be done. The Spymaster was right, this occasion required some amount of decorum. Cullen stood up straight and tried to ready himself mentally. Did he remember all the appropriate phrases?

When they came close to the tavern, she stopped and faced him, looking like she expected him to know what he should do now. He did not.

"Alright then. What is it you need of me?" Leliana laughed shortly and crossed her arms in a scolding manner. "What I need of you? Maker's breath, just go talk to them, Cullen. They're over there." She pointed to the square in front of the tavern, where a large crowd was gathered and engaged in festivities. He felt his throat tighten.

There was a lot of beer flowing and Cullen smelled meat being roasted. "But-"

When he turned again, the woman had already disappeared into the night. _Of course._ Cullen sighed heavily and looked at the crowd of people - everyone was in a splendid mood and there was even dancing. _Maker, I hope nobody expects me to dance_. He straightened his back, put one hand on the pommel of his sword and dove into the crowd.

Cullen felt entirely out of place. There was music, people were loud and exuberant and he felt a headache coming on. On top of that, the Herald was nowhere to be seen. He wandered around aimlessly for a bit, and when he approached a group of soldiers to inquire about the Herald's whereabouts, their laughter and jokes seemed to die down suddenly. They looked up at the Commander in silence as if he'd just caught them sneaking off from their posts, _which was the case technically.  
_

When he found himself at a loss of words somehow, and grumbled a "Carry on", they resumed their conversation with a slight bow of their heads toward him, but it seemed a little quieter than before. This was entirely uncomfortable and he was beginning to get frustrated.

Now ready to give up, Cullen meandered out of the crowd and leaned against the ramparts to the side and out of the crowd with a sigh, rubbing his neck. This was useless, _he would just find them tomorrow and_ \- but suddenly, cutting through all the commotion, he seemed to hear a familiar raspy laugh beside him and turned.

The Herald was practically towering over the crowd, _how had he not seen them before,_ and now strolled over to him with a plate of fried bread and roasted squash on it, beaming at him. "Commander! It's good of you to come. Are you enjoying yourself?" Were they mocking him? _Clearly, I am not_. But he gave the Herald a curt nod and they smiled at him; their hair was sort of mussed, their cheeks flushed pink and they smelled of rich firewood smoke.

Cullen swallowed a clot in his throat and fidgeted. "I...wanted to congratulate you, Herald. This victory is a great success and clearly deserved", he stated with a bow. They raised an eyebrow and chuckled, then rubbed their forehead. "Oh man, I see. Did Leliana make you come here? She did, didn't she? That was good of her - this is your victory too." Cullen coughed uncomfortably and glanced at the large mass of people beside them. He expected the Tevinter to show up at any moment, and that was something he seriously did not need to witness.

They were both quiet for a bit and he was growing more uncomfortable by the second. "Well then. I should really..." Immediately, the Herald stepped a bit closer and shook their head. "No way, Commander. You're not going back to work now. I understand if you're not comfortable with the crowd, but please stay at least for a moment and eat something with me. Will you?"

He shifted from one foot to the other, nervously fidgeting with the hilt of his sword, but he had to admit he was starving. So he simply nodded, and the Herald smiled widely, thrusting their plate into his hands. "Oh, good! I'll get you something. ...Meat and beer, I suppose?" He confirmed, defeated, and the Herald disappeared into the crowd.

Cullen stood there for what felt like an eternity, awkwardly holding the Herald's plate while people passed and bowed occasionally and he tried his best to look civil and...festive. With a roaring laugh, someone suddenly dissolved from the crowd right in front of him, yelling a high-spirited response to someone into the crowd. The man turned and saw Cullen, as his wide grin faltered somewhat and he curtly saluted him. It was Krem.

"Ah. Commander. Congratulations on today. What a...fine victory for all of us." Cullen's throat was dry. This was the last thing he needed right now, and he started to excuse himself to go looking for the Herald and tell them he really needed to be on his way but _of course_ , right then the Qunari emerged from the crowd, a plate with what looked like braised nug on it and a tankard in hands. When he saw them, the Tevinter seemed to blush. _Maker's breath._

The Herald stepped up to the two men and looked at the Tevinter. "...Krem, hello. I see you found our little private party. Care to join?" They actually winked at the man, and Cullen's face started to burn. _Maker, please no. Anything but that._ But mercifully, the man simply bowed and stated he was "needed elsewhere" before he quickly submerged himself into the mass of people again, leaving Cullen dumbfounded.

Cullen handed their plate back to the Herald, feeling more uncomfortable than ever. _This was a terrible idea._ But they only laughed and tilted their head. "Commander, you need to take something off me first. I only have so many hands." He complied reluctantly and coughed nervously again, looking after the Tevinter.

"Do you want to...I mean if you.." Adaar turned their head with furrowed brows to follow his gaze still smiling, then scoffed. "Oh, no. Krem is chasing after a tavern maid. I do _not_ want to interfere with that."

Cullen was taken aback. _But they...he saw them..._ Adaar saw the confused look on his face and realization apparently dawned upon them. "Oh, my fucking... Someone told, didn't they? The gossip in this town, I swear. If we hadn't had the Breach to distract them, people would have spread the rumor that I was able to sprout wings whenever I pleased." They laughed again, light and airy, and he could see they'd had a few tankards themselves already. "Wait, they probably already did that, huh? Oh well. I just never pictured you to be fond of shallow tattle, Commander."

The Herald grinned at him while he blushed a crimson red, almost dropped his beer wanting to protest this accusation, but thought better of it immediately. It would be even worse to have them know he'd _seen_. The Herald took a bite of their bread, gave him a gentle slap on the arm and seemed to suppress a broad smile. "Eat, Commander, before it gets cold. I'm just teasing you; I know word spreads faster than the plague here." His face and neck were still burning hot, but he _was_ very hungry.

They ate in silence for a while, which was a welcome change to the blasted conversation before. _You're such a damn fool. And this Tevinter is, too_. The cut of meat was supple and sweet, and he felt a bit better after he'd finished, washing it down with the light ale, when he heard the Herald sigh deeply and looked over. They were gazing over the crowd and their expression had turned from a boisterous smile to an almost somber one.

"Are...you alright, Herald?" He had trouble gauging this sudden shift in mood and would have punched himself for being so slow. Had he missed something again?

They drew in a breath and looked over with eyes that were slightly glazed over; they had seemingly been deep in thought and he cursed himself for not just keeping quiet. But they did look...sad somehow and he started to worry.

"It's just...look at them all. They will all swear up and down that I single-handedly saved them from every single demon in the world, and that they saw Andraste hold my pouch while I did so, no offense Commander, sorry, but they...they won't..." They sighed shakily and Cullen was at a loss of what to do. They were quiet for a while and his throat was dry no matter how much ale he drank, too dry to speak, and he shifted uncomfortably, shoulders tensing.

After a while, Adaar put their plate and the ground and leaned against the wooden stakes behind them, crossing their arms. Where had the festive mood gone all of a sudden? Had he said or done something to upset them? They swallowed and looked down at the grass beneath their feet, or maybe at nothing.

Had it always been this quiet? Even the music didn't seem so loud anymore all of a sudden. Their voice suddenly came upon him like a rolling boulder. "You know, when people look at me, all they see is _the Herald_. Maybe _the big hulking Ox_ , but never just...Adaar." His stomach sank a little bit and he bit his lip, trying to come up with a reason to excuse himself, but of course, there was none.

The Herald chuckled dryly and looked over at him, his gaze shooting up to meet theirs. "You know, for all these people that surround me, I feel completely alone most of the time. I have...precious few friends to call my own and no family to speak of. Instead, I have this."

They thrust up their left hand, and the Mark glimmered in the dimming light, the magic crackling quietly. "And all it does is separate me from people even more." With another weary sigh, they looked up at the sky which was by now strewn with several stars. "It doesn't help that I'm entirely suspicious of everyone I meet, but I guess that's what happens when you grow up getting shit from people all your life. You don't... _trust_. You just don't. And you start to make wrong accusations. Like...I did with you." 

A bolt of thunder went through his head and his whole body. Cullen stared at the ground, eyes wide and burning. They were drunk, and their voice was so soft and gentle. He felt like a little boy recruit about to be embarrassed in front of the whole Order.

His breathing came only shakily and he rubbed his neck with a trembling hand. "Herald..." They pushed themselves off the ramparts they were leaning against and stood in front of him now, entirely too close, and he felt vulnerable like a child. They spoke again, softly and with a low, hushed tone. "I misjudged you Cullen, often and badly. I am sorry."

His head shot up and they locked eyes with him. They had said his name. _Again._ It rang in his head with a strange echo, sticky sweet against his innards, and as if it burrowed down right to his core. Cullen felt a little sick and he was sweating. With the same soft voice, they went on. "I...apologize that I've been so difficult. You only ever meant well, I know, and I would be happy to consider you a...a friend." The last word sounded almost like a question.

It was silent for what seemed like a long time and he kept staring at them, the _Herald_ , who he served, who he was sworn to, and he couldn't, it just wasn't right, he was just an unimportant small man, he...

Slowly, Cullen saw their eyes tense and their brows furrow, their lips were now pressed together as they still stood there, expectantly. _Say something, damn you._ "I..Herald, yes, I mean, if you..." Adaar took a step back, ever so small, but it felt like he was hanging from a ledge into an abyss and they'd just cut the rope.

They smirked, it was bitter with a sad scowl and they shook their head when he wanted to speak again. "No, Commander, that came just a little too late. Please forget I ever brought the matter up. I...good evening." With that, they turned, and he dropped the tankard, starting after them. _You unspeakable fool. You absolute useless man._

He reached after them in the crowd, _what do I care who sees now_ , and caught their sleeve. They turned around trying to shake him off halfheartedly and he could see tears welling up in their eyes. Cullen's heart was caught in his throat, and he opened his mouth to speak, when he heard them.

 _Bells_. Adaar's eyes widened and they both looked at the mountain behind him frantically, where he now saw fires coming toward them, little specks of red light in the leaden night. _A lot of fires_. He sucked in a sharp breath and drew his sword, looking at the Herald. They only nodded shortly. "I will meet you at the gates." With that, Adaar grabbed their staff from their back ever ready, and took off into the night. 


	15. On your forgotten red heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wear black in the present tense  
> Wear black when you come around  
> Wear black in your absence

Adaar was rushing through the chaos while everybody around them seemed to be running around completely headless. The whole town had succumbed to panic and Adaar felt none the better. Fear had a tight grip on their heart as the ashes whirled around them in great thick clouds, the sooty fallout of this destruction. _Keep it together, keep it together, keep moving, breathe,_ was their endless mantra, and it barely made a difference. Adaar felt sick to their stomach, their hands were cold and stiff and they had trouble holding the staff as it seemed to grow increasingly heavy. Their senses were heightened to a painful degree, and everything seemed to be entirely too sharp and close to them. Every little movement registered like a deep cut in their head and their heart pounded too hard in their chest; _pump-pump-pumping_ the adrenaline through their limbs in panicked waves.

Some say there is a calm that washes over you as you enter battle, that you function without thinking and the world is at its clearest and most absolute, but Adaar found that that was a load of pig shit. They were a panicked wreck, and nothing was calm or clear. The monstrous constructs around them awakened a fear in their heart which was unparalleled to anything they could have ever encountered in the Fade, because in there, you knew your own perception can play tricks on you and if you're skilled, you could alter its malleable, impressionable structure. Nothing about any of this was undefined or unclear however, and Adaar felt entirely robbed of their powers. The screaming red horrors were undeniably here, brutally real and and they seemed to all have bled straight out of your nightmares into reality. It was hard for Adaar to register this was actually happening; everything seemed so out of place and they found themself wanting to run and hide. There was nowhere to run, however. The whole world had been turned into a fiery pit of destruction and death, in which their magic seemed like a drop in the ocean.

They had found Cassandra, Varric and Bull in the chaos and sent the other fighters they'd seen out in all directions, to help the people of Haven. It all seemed so wrong - surely there had to be someone they could tell that this was all a mistake, that this was not supposed to happen. Adaar's heart was about to burst through their chest as they viewed the smoldering remains of the place they all had come to call home, quickly disintegrating before their very eyes. Adaar did not know a lot about strategy or battles, but they were aware Haven was no fortress. The walls would only hold for so long, and there seemed to be no end to the advancing demon horde outside the gates.

Bull's axe came crashing down beside them, and they looked back in terror at what seemed to have been a person at some point, but now there was not much left: bloody red crystals of who knew what were bursting through her head and torso, ripping open the Templar uniform which she'd worn. Adaar was shaking uncontrollably - this thing had almost gotten to them. They whirled around to face Bull, who was in a raging frenzy. His face and arms were covered in bloody stains that looked eerily like freckles and his breath was coming hard and fast like a hammer. He was a terrifying sight, looming over everyone in his brutal raw strength.

Adaar watched in a daze as blood dripped from his weapon, slow and thick. At his feet, something that might have been entrails at one point pooled in a slithering black heap, steaming and shimmering in the cold night. Something was wrong about them though; they looked like they had been eaten up from inside, their shape destroyed almost beyond recognition by perforation and pustules that left a misshapen mess like a malignant growth in their place. In horror, Adaar watched as the dead mass twitched and writhed in front of them still, like a pile of fat disintegrating black slugs.

They felt a lump rise in their throat and their stomach heaving. The red crystals that burst forth from these monsters were on the inside too apparently, and seemed to have grown over several organs, encrusting them in a sickly red glow like a hardened, foreign fungus. Adaar's vision blackened around the edges and they felt unable to breathe as their stomach tightened. The stench of blood filled the air in an inescapable mist, and a wave of death and decay hit them as they stared at the remains of what seemed to have been a Templar at some point.

"You have to move, Adaar!" The Qunari's voice boomed down on them through the clamor of battle, and Adaar was startled back into reality. "Wh-what are these things?" It seemed impossible that something like this should exist. They were misshapen and horrifying, but worse than that was the fact that these were not demons as it had first seemed. They had been people at some point. Adaar felt sick again. Bull grabbed their shoulder and turned them to face him. "It doesn't matter! Listen to me boss, we need to get going - there are too many of them out here!" They nodded weakly and like in a trance. _Damn it Adaar, you're supposed to be a leader to these people. Get it the fuck together._

Adaar did their best to keep moving and tried to shake the terror that seized them progressively. _But there are so many people._ Where should they all go? The group of four was now hastening toward the town, and Adaar tried to get people they picked up along the way to follow in a somewhat controlled fashion. _Please at least keep up the semblance of control.  
_

As they approached the gates of Haven, they saw the Commander waving people in. A strange twinge of despair grabbed at Adaar's heart as they saw the man. He looked disheveled and dead tired, but also alert and more in control of this situation than they could ever hope to be.

It seemed like most everyone was inside by now, so the group rushed in as well. Soldiers pulled the heavy wooden doors shut behind them hastily, and Cassandra began a shouted briefing on the situation immediately while Adaar stood and stared at the chaos in town. _So much death and destruction._ Why? Who was behind this?

A quiet came over them all of a sudden and with a eerie cold feeling they looked up at the sky, their ears ringing with the strange new calm. _Something's not right_.

"...the Chantry. We need to get everyone inside, and-" There was a rattle, knocking and a muffled pleading voice behind them suddenly - had they left someone outside?

Frantically, Adaar pulled open the gate while Cassandra tried to protest, and in staggered a lanky young man. He waved his arms at the startled party and started giving a confused and confusing overview of the situation about which he seemed to know a lot, and it confirmed their suspicions. _Fuck_. They felt their breathing become shallow as they recalled the uniform on the monstrous horror that seemed to have once been a soldier. Not just any soldier though. _Templars_.

Adaar felt cold and miserable. Of course they would attack; the Inquisition hadn't sided with them so they were _clearly_ enemies. The Commander seemed to know the leader, Samson, and Adaar felt dizzy and weak. Why was it always Templars? To add to their problems, they seemed to have been in contact with red lyrium, as Varric had alluded to grimly. Adaar shivered at the thought of the future they'd seen in Redcliffe. Apparently this was the same substance and it was able to infect people, which is what must have happened to these Templars. _Perfect._ Of course these idiots would try and gain more power through something they barely understood. 

Adaar did not need to hear any more. "Enough. We need to get these people out of here. Commander, get everyone inside the Chantry; we will try to cut through their forces out here." The man stared at Adaar with a sad, somehow empty look and Adaar felt a strange hole open up inside them, but answered with a steely resolve in their eyes. _There is no time to mourn these humans now._ He seemed as if he meant to say something but instead he simply nodded gravely, and they took off. 

The creatures were hideous, up close or far away, though Adaar tried their best to keep a distance to the snarling monstrosities. There was nothing human left inside them as they had to accept the more they fought, and they all had the same eerie, faint red glow to them with those horrific crystals growing out of their bodies like giant parasites. Frantically, the group fought through the bulk of them which had now arrived in front of the gates. The plan was to get some of the trebuchets to work again, so they would at least stand a chance of defeating this demon army. A nauseating, thick stench of blood and entrails wafted over them, and Adaar found themself quickly succumbing to despair. _No, you can't._ _They are depending on you._

Varric seemed to take this the hardest. He was uncharacteristically quiet and grim, a strange mood for the man who usually had a quip and good spirits handy for everyone. Then Adaar recalled the story of the Templar in Kirkwall who had succumbed to red lyrium. Of course, that's how he knew. They shuddered and looked over the horde of corrupted Templars which stretched as far as they could see. How did this happen?

Two main catapults were finally recovered with the help of many of their soldiers and mages who'd stayed behind to fight, so Adaar and their companions headed back to the gates, where the Commander already came running toward them again. He looked almost as desperate as Adaar but kept it together admirably, they thought with a tinge of sadness. "Most everyone's in the Chantry, let's regroup-" But Cullen never got to finish his sentence, as the most hideous sound Adaar had ever heard sliced through the air around them like a rusty sword.

With a screech that almost shattered their ear drums, a shadow overhead blotted out the moon and all they saw for a few seconds was a red glaring stream of lightning coming down on them. Adaar ducked and drew up a shield over themself and the others in a panic while they all rushed inside the town again, pulling the gates shut when the creature suddenly flew overhead. Adaar stared up at it in disbelief. _Dragon_. The word rang hollow in their ears. What on Earth was a dragon doing here?

The Commander's eyes were wide, glistening with disbelief in the cold moonlight and his flushed face paled when he saw it fly over them with thunderous wings and another head-splitting screech. Varric gasped and grabbed his Crossbow, as well as Adaar's arm as they were still unable to tear their gaze away, and Cassandra said a prayer that went unheard against the creature's screeching. Not even Bull seemed excited, he cursed under his breath and had the same look of panicked disbelief on his stony face.

"To the Chantry, now!" The Commander's words finally threw them out of their stupor. Adaar's magic crackled in the cool night air as they sent bolts of ice flying that sliced through the hordes of monstrously deformed Templars that were climbing the ramparts already. Houses were burning and soldiers were fighting with panic written in their faces as the group moved through the ruined town in a daze. They pulled a few stragglers from the remains and rushed toward the large building themselves. The magic in the air made Adaar's head swim and it felt...wrong. Dark and tainted.

"I believe that's everyone - quickly, now!" The Commander was inside the church already and pulled the large doors shut behind Adaar when the party had rushed inside, breathlessly. Adaar felt nauseated, feverish, and their whole body seemed numb, like it belonged to someone else. They exchanged a look with the Commander, who seemed to be someone else entirely, a construct more than a man, only an arm and a sword on a body moving on its own, and he was shouting some disjointed short orders into the crowd.

There was a frantic back and forth from everyone for a moment when all of a sudden the strange young man spoke up again, quietly, but everyone heard it somehow and turned, falling silent. Adaar now saw that he was merely a boy, and he was strange to say the least. He spoke in riddles, describing someone or something called the Elder One, and apparently knew about a secret passage, which the Chancellor behind him confirmed. "Will that work, Commander?" Adaar was grasping at straws, but it seemed like they did not have many options. "Not if Samson and that Dragon tear down this building first." Adaar and everyone else seemed to realize collectively that they were entirely outnumbered and there was no chance they could hold them off long enough for everyone to make it out. But the boy held out a pale hand and shook his head.

"There is another way. The Elder One, he wants the Herald alone. He's not interested in the rest of you, I don't think." Everybody was now staring at Adaar and a strange calm washed over them in the hushed and dim light of the Chantry. They felt almost happy. Relieved. They took a deep breath and a half smile curved on their cracked lips which were stained with soot and ash. Finally, an option had presented itself. "Well, then I think it's obvious. I go out again. Alone this time."

Cassandra and the rest protested immediately of course, but it was no use. Adaar would not hear it, they would not risk everyone's lives just to hide out a little longer. "All of you are leaving, now. Commander, tell me what you need from me." There was a leaden silence before people drifted off to the back of the Chantry, slowly first, then more pressingly. Some may have said encouraging things or voiced their concern, but Adaar did not register any of it really. Quietly he Commander stepped to the door with them and filled them in on a plan he apparently had just come up with. _Man, he's good at this_. They nodded, still strangely calm and ready for their task. When they turned to leave however, the Commander did not leave and instead there was an expectant silence surrounding them.

"Commander? Is there anything else i should know?" The man held their gaze for a moment with a somber look and came a few steps closer, speaking with a soft, low voice that made goosebumps trickle down Adaar's arms. "Herald, you..." He fidgeted for a moment and Adaar thought he seemed dissatisfied. _Why? Everything is clear. We finally have a chance._

"Perhaps...you will surprise it, find a way.." So that's what this was about. Their precious Herald needed a proper sending off. Adaar scoffed. _Enough with this fucking Chantry decorum._ They grabbed their staff and looked at him once more with a low chuckle. "Sure, Commander. Just...please just get them out of here." And without another look back, they were out the door.

 

* * *

 

Cullen was absolutely frantic though he did not want to admit it to himself, and it did not help that everyone seemed to be entirely giving up hope right now. Sure, everyone was exhausted, many were wounded and they had just narrowly escaped, but there had to be something, _anything_ they could do. Everything had happened so fast, and now it all had come to a standstill all of a sudden while his mind was still racing, his body ready to keep going; at least that's what he told himself.

They had watched the town being buried under a giant avalanche from their vantage point up the mountain when they had finally reached it. The soldiers had given the signal immediately, a burning arrow in the air, while his chest had constricted and all the air had left him at once, to the point of him losing his balance and vision. The trebuchet had set off a massive amount of snow on one of the mountains and all that remained of the town afterward was a heavy mass of misty white fog in the silvery moonlight, and then a complete deadly silence had settled over the grisly scene. It seemed the Herald had succeeded.

"We have to go look for them!" The Ambassador was running back and forth between the council and the soldiers behind him and seemed to be the only one who still had their wits together. Cassandra grabbed her arm. "Are you mad?! In this snow storm? We will have to wait for it to pass, Josephine-" Their words turned into static as Cullen looked up at the huge white cloud of ice raging at the peak behind them. It was coming closer, and he could not even see where the path joined the platform they had gathered on anymore, so thick was the storm.

They had made camp in one of the basins where it had seemed fairly quiet and sheltered, and he was tired to the bone but he only wanted to scale that mountain again and dig through all the snow on this blasted peak if need be, just to find them. He felt disbelief rise in him: they had left them down there. His skin felt like ice and he was cold to the core. It was no use, and he had to see that at least for tonight. So after more heated debate between the Seeker and Josephine, they settled down grimly and resolved to wait until the morning to send out a small search party but until then, nothing could be done.

He did not sleep much that night. It was cold in his tent but he could only imagine how it was for Adaar, out there, alone.

 

* * *

 

Three days. They had been waiting around doing nothing for three entire days and he was about to hack this entire mountain to pieces. The snow storm still hadn't passed entirely but it seemed to have receded at least a bit and there was a thick fog covering the peak towering over them now. "We cannot wait any longer, Cassandra. They will not last out there, we need to go and start looking now, or we might as well give up on the Herald entirely!"

The Council stood before him, all looking incredibly tired and worse than ever. Cullen expected himself to look none the better, but he could not find a second of rest while they were still out there. Josephine spoke up, wearily and wrapped in many cloaks so she looked like a tragic noble trapped with her vile kidnapper out in the brutal wilderness, but her voice still carried the same reason and calm it always did. "We are all tired and unsure of what to do next, but we must keep together, and keep hope alive." Cullen felt dazed and frustrated, and he felt he would not be able to sit and listen to the same hopeful speech again.

"We all want to find them as soon as possible, but for now, today, we can't. This storm is still going on. Let us try tomorrow and get some rest tonight. Most of us haven't slept in days." That was, at least, something he could agree on. And he had to admit, though he hated to do so, that going out now he would not be able to ensure he was giving his best, tired as he was. His entire body ached. While he was used to the field, this brutal cold was not something any of them could endure for long and he knew they had to get moving soon. Where to though, no one seemed to know, so at least they had some more time to find the Herald. He prayed to Andraste to watch over them, feeling more helpless than ever.


	16. Let there be dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here I stand and face the rain  
> I know that nothing's gonna be the same again  
> I fear for what tomorrow brings

The fight was brutal, and there were bodies strewn across the grounds they had all been able to walk peacefully until now. Bodies of people they had known. _Fuck, please, please, let the Commander succeed. Please, Cullen, get them out of here._

Adaar lead the small group toward the catapult; a wild plan had manifested in their head through the fighting and while they had talked about the mountain. If it worked, they would all be safe, but it was a total shot in the dark. It was also the only hope they had. 

It was now almost impossible to get through the groups of misshaped Templars as they covered almost all of the area, while more streamed down from the mountain. They did not have much time now. Adaar grabbed Bull by the arm, still fucking topless in all this freezing cold. It was time. He stared down at Adaar, still taller than them, and stopped. "What is it, boss?"

They looked at the large man solemnly; Adaar had come to consider him a friend, and an ache shot through their heart. But there was no time for sentiment now, and exactly because they cared for these people, they had to do this. "You will go join the others now. I can advance on my own from here." Bull's eyes widened and he grabbed Adaar's shoulder, leaning in. "Are you insane?! I won't-" Adaar grabbed his hand on their shoulder and he fell silent. "I will _not_ discuss this with you. Take the others and _go_. That's an order." He froze up, seemingly of two minds about the matter, and Adaar hoped he would not be able disobey now.

Cassandra and Varric came running up to them now, bewildered and covered in soot and blood, like the two Qunari before them were. They looked exhausted, and Adaar smiled thinly. _They will make it out._ _I will ensure they do_. "Adaar...?" Varric, as always, was too smart for his own good and eyed them suspiciously, as realization slowly settled in. Adaar looked at Bull once more and raised their brows expectantly. "They want to go on alone", they heard the dwarf say to Cassandra in the background. "Herald, we won't! We will not leave you now!" The Seeker was infuriated and headstrong as always, and time was running out fast. But Bull nodded, finally, and Adaar let go of him.

"It's really not up for debate. Get to the others, and do it fast!" And with a swooping motion of their staff, they sent the three flying toward the gates. There the three quickly scrambled to their feet and Adaar saw with gratification how Bull rushed over to grab the others and push them through the large door as Cassandra tried to run towards Adaar again, while Varric just stared in disbelief. When they were through, Adaar slammed the gates shut behind them with an icy gust and covered the whole wooden surface in a thick icy wall that almost used up all of their remaining magic. _It's worth it if means they make it out_.

Now they were all alone in the midst of the madness, and unchecked terror finally crept up their spine and arms, covering them in an angry, icy sheen. Adaar drew in a shaky breath and started towards the catapult, trying not to take in all the dead people, demons and animals around them. Their legs seemed to be made of butter and Adaar cursed. _There's no time to be weak now, damn it!_ But they were no hero as they sadly had to admit, and all they wanted to do was run. That was no option, however. All of them depended on Adaar, their wonderful Herald, to save them. How the hell had it come to this? They had never asked for that.

But as they looked down on the ruined bodies of stable hands and cleaners, soldiers and washers, smithing assistants and fishers, the cooks and the mages, they knew that neither had they, and anger rose within them once more. _Good_. _You don't have time to be scared_.

They arrived at the last standing trebuchet, and it was surrounded by more of the tainted Templars and some demons, aimlessly creeping through the cold night air. It rained ash and fire and all of it mingled with the blood and the snow on the ground into a sickeningly pink and black mush. It also made it hard to breathe for Adaar. Fire was not, and had never been their element and the heat was getting to them. With an unsteady hand Adaar fished out their last lyrium flask, drank the burning liquid and then drew up their mage armor and an icy wall in front of them while they rained down icy hell on those monsters.

They were dead inside, Adaar could see it now. The Templars were possessed and altered by something, maybe a curse, maybe a demon, maybe it was that red lyrium itself, and oh, those crystals growing out of them, like nauseatingly deformed new organs. Adaar did not relent no matter how close their pounding heart seemed to collapse under the fear - they could not, even though every bone in their body felt like it had disintegrated by now and their magic was running very, very low. Bolt by bolt, they impaled the Templars and the ice sliced through their bodies with a maddening wet crunch, as the red monstrosities circled in around them.

Adaar froze a large demon that appeared next to them out of nowhere in a panic, and shattered it with a swift hit of their staff. _What I wouldn't give for a sword next to me now_. The picture of the Commander manifested in their mind, and they prayed to whatever Gods he believed in that they would aid him now. _I wish I had paid more attention to their stupid Chant, maybe then they would listen to a filthy Qunari like me now_. He was capable, though, and Adaar had to believe he could do this.

Another snap of their hand, and another creature froze before them. Adaar took the opportunity and rushed closer to the catapult, drawing up an ice mine behind them while impaling more of the Templars to their right to buy some time, and saw that the bolts had gotten smaller and weaker. _It won't be long now._

Two of them fell over next to them, but there was another large demon now coming toward Adaar from behind the wooden construct. "Damn it, you fucking hideous shits! How many of you are there!? Stay the fuck back!" With considerable effort, Adaar shot a large bolt into the towering Behemoth's chest and it struggled to keep moving for a second. Adaar's arm felt numb after it, and their head pounded with immense exhaustion. _Now, you have to do it now._

Adaar started to climb up to the platform and shot a panicked look toward the red giant which was already coming closer, and with considerable effort, they aimed the trebuchet at the white peak of the mountain towering over them.

With a loud crack the air was split around them and a heavy and hot gust of wind knocked Adaar down, encircling everything in ash and pitch black dust. In a panic, they scrambled in the dark, when the silhouette of the red monster was suddenly visible to them again, advancing fast. With a last effort, they raised their hand and a piercing pain shot through Adaar as they froze the demon in an icy prison just mere feet from where they were standing. Adaar screamed a curse into the night; that was it. _No more fucking magic left._

They stood up with strength that didn't seem to be their own and crawled toward the platform again, hoping that the Behemoth would not break free, _please oh please just a few more seconds_ - 

Something hit Adaar's head with a dull thump and knocked them to the ground. As they looked up again in a daze and blood trickling out through their teeth, they saw that a giant black shadow had descended onto the frozen monster and crushed the figure with a nauseating noise, like glass grinding on bare bone.

There was silence for what felt like an eternity as Adaar stared into the gigantic hideous face which hovered above them, teeth like bloodstained daggers gleaming at them from behind peeled back lips that grinned like the dead, its nostrils a bony ruin, the body strewn with gaping holes that glowed in the same eerie red as the Templars did, wings crinkling like paper - _no, like dry dead skin -_ as Adaar shook like a leaf on the ground before it. They tried to reach for their staff, slowly, and the beast let out a screech which shattered all of their senses at once, their ears felt like they had been pierced through by fire, stars were punching into their eyeballs and their body became numb all over as they sank down onto the bloodstained earth.

As they looked up again through a haze of despair and sheer terror, a figure emerged next to the dragon and advanced towards Adaar. Weakly and hopelessly, they scrambled back, but the looming tall thing was in front of them in what seemed like an instant.

It was hideous, worse than anything they'd seen even today, and that had been a lot. Its body, like the dragon's was a bloody and gaping ruin strewn with the same red glowing crystals. It seemed...altered by it, as if something had taken it apart and rebuilt it to this disgusting creature. Its face resembled something once human, but that was about it. Everything else screamed _demon_ at Adaar. And then it spoke.

Adaar could not believe what they were hearing. This abomination seemed conscious, but completely mad. It talked of a key, an Elder One, it gave itself the name Corypheus, and it wanted to remove the "anchor", as it called the mark on Adaar's hand. It seemed this creature was responsible for all of this, and Adaar felt no more fear as they listened to the ravings of the demon. Only anger.

"So you mean to tell me all these people are dead because of some magical experiment of yours that went wrong and somehow involved me?" With an effort that threatened to tear every muscle in their body, Adaar pulled themself up and a fire was burning in their eyes. "You will pay for that, you-" But they were not able to finish as now a searing pain shot through their left arm, blinding them and forcing them back onto the ground as they screamed in pain. The creature was holding up some sort of orb which pulled and ripped at the mark in their hand, and Adaar was convinced this was the end.

The pain still shot through them, throbbing and sharp, and Adaar realized there was a sudden leaden silence around them, with nothing digging into their throbbing arm anymore. Suddenly, the creature burst forward and lifted Adaar up by their hand with a hideous scream, leaving them dangling limp like a doll in its claws. "You have spoiled it with your stumbling! It can't be removed anymore!" The creature seemed livid and Adaar smirked at it weakly. _Good. Then they had at least done something right._ Whatever this monster wanted with the anchor as it called it could not be good.

With another screech, it hurled Adaar onto the trebuchet and all the air left their lungs. "It matters not. I will find another way. You are just a minor distraction in my plan." Adaar lifted a very tired and pounding head, barely conscious, gripped the rope securing the catapult and looked at the mountain pass above them, so very far away, so still and white and at peace. The demon crawled closer and they blinked wearily, their eyes almost falling shut from exhaustion. And there it was. A small red dot in the dark, they barely saw it through the dust and whirling ashes and all the fire surrounding them. But they saw it - it was the signal they had been waiting for. The sign that the others were safe, that they had made it.

Adaar raised their bruised head at the creature and smiled while a strange warmth spread within them. There was no more doubt, no more fear, no more pain. It had all been worth it and nothing else mattered anymore. The monstrous construct stopped and stared, seemingly perplexed, and Adaar pushed the last of their life force into their arm on the rope. "Go to hell, demon." A sliver of ice cut through the thick fibers and the creature screamed as it realized what the Qunari had just done. The trebuchet let loose a giant boulder which Adaar followed with burning eyes, and then the last thing they saw was a white shadow that swallowed the world as thunder came down upon them.

 

* * *

 

 

Cullen left his freezing tent in a daze; he had not gotten much sleep but the little he had in him helped. He felt a little more clear-headed today, and more determined than ever. His first look was up at the mountain peak above them, and his heart stopped in his chest. The snow storm had not stopped, it was still raging on top of the peak, though it seemed to have receded a bit. Around him people were already awake, cooking and attending to the wounded. There were a lot of injured people at camp. Soldiers looked up at him with weary gazes and some saluted, some were too weak. It was a dismal situation.

He started towards the tent they were holding their meetings in, and he hoped to Andraste there was some food there already. He could not delay this any further. Cullen pulled the stiff cloth aside, and found that Leliana and Josephine were inside already. Maker only knew where Cassandra was, but at least it was warm in here. His fingers and toes were numb, as was most of his face. He saw there was a plate with food in the corner, and sat down on one of the chairs, grabbing some of the bread and meat. It was all cold, but it was all there was for now, and he was starving.

After a while during which no one talked his extremities started slowly tingling in the heat that emanated from the fire inside as his body slowly thawed. It was a miracle he hadn't frozen to death in his sleep yet, but he could not let anyone see him thrashing and maybe even talking during his night terrors, so he slept alone in an unheated tent.

Finally the cloth was pulled back, letting in the severe, angry cold and Josephine pulled the blanket around her more firmly. In stepped Cassandra together with the Healer, Adan. Now they could start. Cullen did not waste any time and addressed the subject at once. "We need to get going as soon as possible. Is everything ready?" Cassandra scowled, but not really at him. It was more her general state of mind at the moment, he assumed. "The Qunari are ready. As are the scouts. Commander, I hope you're sure about this. This is the one shot we get."

Cullen paid that last comment no particular mind and directed his attention to Adan, as a feverish uneasiness spread through his stomach. "If we wait any longer it might be too late. Adan, give us your thoughts on the situation." He tried his best to sound professional and in charge, but his voice almost left him as he said it. The Healer was silent for an agonizingly long while next to Cassandra, then looked at the three of them and presented his opinion with a factual hand gesture which stated _This is the best I've got, but don't take my word for it being true._

"If you are to go out and look for them, I'd wager today to be the last day for it. Longer than 4 days without food and heat in this weather, I don't think even a Qunari could make that." His voice left a hesitant intonation at the last few words which stated, without the need of saying it, "But I don't have a lot of hope as it is".

Leliana nodded and Josephine sighed before stating she wished them all the best and sincerely hoped for their success. Cullen looked over at Cassandra who nodded gravely, but he could see none of the doubt that had been there before. She was ready and behind the plan. _Thank the Maker, no more negotiations_. Cullen stood in an instant and the others followed. Leliana was to stay with Josephine and ensure that the camp did not descend into full chaos. Cassandra Cullen and Bull, together with a few other Qunari would head out with Scout Harding and her people to find the Herald, and it had to be today.

They received rations from the cook and wishes from everyone who was out, and together, they set off into the snow which was thankfully still trodden down a bit from the caravan and made it a bit easier to get through.

The day was cloudy and thus the morning was not as mercilessly cold as it could have been, but the icy winds which picked up around them after a while were less than pleasant and made advancing even harder, slowing them down quite a bit. No one spoke much, and the one thing on their collective minds seemed to be _Let's hope they're even out there_. But Cullen knew, he somehow _knew_ that they had made it out, they were the Herald and the Maker and Andraste would watch over them, _please, please watch over them_ , had been his constant silent prayer through everything these past few days.

 

* * *

 

A thumping noise shook through their consciousness and jerked them back into reality. Weary and incredibly weak, Adaar opened their eyes and was not able to see a lot at first, their head was pounding so hard and everything was numbed by burning pain. Slowly, they tried to come to their senses. The taste of dried blood in their mouth made them gag and the dryness in their throat caused them to almost cough their lungs out. What had happened? Where were they?

And then it hit them like a bolt of lightning - Corypheus. That name, that hideous face were in front of them again, and Adaar jerked up, a little too fast and felt like they would collapse again right away. Their stomach roiled and their vision left them as they fell onto their arms and heaved into the darkness, their stomach constricting as their dry and burning throat made a retching, suffocating sound which made them even sicker, but it seemed there was nothing to throw up left in them, which made the whole ordeal even more painful while it felt like their eyes were about to pop out of their head.

With a pained gasp, they rolled over onto their back and pinched their eyes shut groaning. The movement made it feel like they had ripped all their extremities out at once, and their muscles were weak strings of raw pain.

Slowly, they opened their eyes again, and were now able to make out vague shapes in the dark. It was cool but not extremely cold. Still, they felt like someone had frozen them solid. The air was actually quite pleasant and they felt how thirsty they were. To their left, they could make out a wall of what seemed to be snow, so they dug their burning hand in it and scooped a handful into their mouth like a dying animal. They felt like one too. The snow was cold, too cold, but the moisture was soothing and much needed, so they repeated the motion it a few more times, and then resolved to sit up.

That proved more difficult than anticipated, however, as it seemed like several bones in their torso and arms were broken or fractured, and there were angry gashes and burns along their skin everywhere. Adaar fumbled around in their pouch, but all that was left was some dried Elfroot, so they took out all of it and chewed on the bitter herb listlessly. It seemed to do some good though, as the pain receded a bit after that at least.

Slowly, the memories came back to Adaar. The festivities, Haven, the army that had attacked them. And the people who had left them in the Chantry, to survive while they were going to their death. The friends they had pushed away so they would live while Adaar stood alone against the darkness. Was this really them? They did not seem to recognize their own person in these actions. How had someone so fucked up done something so...useful?

As they lay on the cold ground and pondered the strange events which had unfolded seemingly all by themselves around Adaar, they heard that thumping noise again. This time they managed to sit up though pain still jolted through every fiber of their body, but they could now see the area around them for the first time. It was a tunnel of some sort, leading on in front of them, while a snowy wall seemed to have blocked off the way just behind them. How lucky could one idiot be? Maybe this Andraste gal really was watching over them.

With a groan, they staggered to their trembling feet, and leaned onto the tunnel wall next to them. As they stared ahead, they realized the sound was snow...falling into the tunnels in great big heaps. They stood for a bit and miraculously did not lose their footing right away. Maybe...they could even make it out of here? It was a wild thought, and totally unrealistic, but it was better than being buried alive down here. They had to try, at least.

For what seemed like an eternity, Adaar felt along the stony walls and took some turns which lead nowhere. Slowly, desperation and doubt in their new plan set in. They had no food, no idea how long they had been down there already, and they were seriously wounded. But what was the alternative? Slowly dying lying down in here? _Hell no_. _I fucking hate caves._

Somehow Adaar had not died in the avalanche they'd set off, and it must have flung them into this tunnel system under the town, which they also survived somehow. So as long as they were standing, they would try to get out of this hole and at least see the open sky again one more time.

Suddenly they heard rustling ahead of them and stopped. Adaar's head swam and fear crept up their spine. They had no weapons, and precious little lyrium left in them. Carefully, they listened to the sounds, but it was impossible to tell how close whatever was causing them was ahead. These tunnels distorted every sound and the snow dampened them. So they carefully pushed on as there was no way back now; the tunnel behind them had gone on straight for too long.

After a few bends, they thought they saw a faint glow ahead. Maybe it was in their head, their very damaged, beaten up head, but it might be a way out so they pressed on a bit faster, and indeed, the glow seemed to get brighter. Adaar felt almost giddy. Just a few more bends, and then- _Fuck_. 

This was not an exit but some sort of hall, a cave with paths leading off to three sides, one of them caved in and a large hole far up in the ceiling illuminating the scene. In the midst of this they saw where the rustling had come from. Three ghostly forms were trapped down here with them. _Shades_. They were moving around aimlessly and Adaar cursed themself for not taking that path to the left a few crossings back, but there was no turning back now. Suddenly, one of the demons stopped. _Oh shit_.

Adaar leaned against the wall and tried not to make a sound, but it seemed the Shade had sensed them. Now, all three were advancing slowly and Adaar felt the blood freeze in their veins.

With a hideous snarl, one of the creatures was around the corner of the tunnel Adaar was in and with a desperate effort, they sent an icy dagger into its core. It seemed like the demon was weakened too, because it now sank to the ground and disintegrated. However, the other two had taken notice of them now, and rushed over, screeching.

Adaar lifted a dead tired hand in a panic and froze them to the ground. They hissed and slashed at them, but were now unable to move. Adaar took the chance and rushed off past them, into one of the two tunnels which were not collapsed, praying to whatever spirits listening that this would not lead them to their death.


	17. Snowball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where is the horse and the rider?  
> Where is the horn that was blowing?  
> They have passed like rain on the mountains,  
> like wind in the meadow.

The day was passing rapidly while Cullen's mood began to shift from determined and hopeful to sour as slowly, desperation started to mix in. They had been traversing the endless mountain slope for hours now, and he could see how tired the soldiers were becoming. However, no one seemed ready to give up, at least not in spirit. They loved their Herald, and were ready to risk their lives finding them. He felt pride well up within him and a small bit of comfort in the fact that these people who had been through so much would at least try, to use what was left of their strength to find the Herald of Andraste even though chances they were actually out here _and_ that this search party would find them were more than slim.

He knew. He was not a complete fool - Cullen was aware that they were more than likely to return empty handed, but he had to try, he had to at least make one organized effort. It was his fault, after all, he was to blame for all of this. His poor planning and his unbelievably short sighted, desperate agreement to their suicide mission had likely killed the Herald; had almost killed them all.

As he pondered his failures as a Commander, he could feel several glances from the people traveling with him, shot in his direction, searing into his skin. He thought he could hear murmurs too, but that could have been just the wind. He realized he must look a total mess - he hadn't had a bath in days, no real food and next to no sleep, the only thing driving him was getting them all out of this white hell, but he could not leave without _trying_ to find the Herald.

At least the other Council members had agreed on that, though none of them had had an idea on how to move on when their little search party would have returned. Cullen mused that it was likely just as much an effort of his to get out of these discussions and to delay that nightmare, if only a little bit further. Should they make the wrong decision in leading all those people forward, there would be dire consequences and he dared not think of that right now. They were not at all safe yet, but at least they were alive.

He was such a coward. Maybe he was not cut out for this position after all; maybe he should resign after all this. He determined to do just that, should they return empty-handed from this expedition. Though, despite everything, he did not want to accept that possibility just yet. _Only a little bit further._

* * *

With trembling breath, Adaar had felt their way along the ever darkening tunnel walls which now lead steadily upwards; hoping, praying, that the Shades would not follow, or at least not catch up with them. They knew this was not very likely but then again, Shades were stupid as hell, so maybe they had at least a sliver of a chance. They tumbled forward into the dark and hoped there were no treacherous holes to stumble into coming up ahead as they ran in what was more a hobble than a panicked sprint, away from the demons.

At some point even their panic was not enough to fuel them forward anymore and they had to slow down, their aching body angry with every move they made, but Adaar had no choice. They could not rest now. So they stumbled on and paused for ages as terror gripped around their heart ever more tightly as they expected their outstretched hand to hit a wall of snow any second. Or worse.

Adaar felt like a lost child in these caverns, all by themself in the endless, cold darkness, and they realized tears were welling up in their eyes. Uncontrollably, they started sobbing with fear, quietly and it repressed, painful heaves so the Shades would not hear them, but they could not stop. Still, no wall of snow came just yet and so they moved on, tears streaming down their burning cheeks, and their hunger almost too much to bear now.

When their feet finally could not carry them anymore and they almost fell over, Adaar decided it was time for a break, whether they liked it or not. So they sunk down onto the stone floor and rested against the wall, too tired to worry about anything following them, and fell into a comatose sleep.

With a panicked jolt that snapped through their entire body, they jerked awake again after who knew how much time had passed, feeling like absolute shit. And they were still down in this hellhole. Adaar sighed a weary and trembling breath and rubbed their aching joints; at least nothing had killed them during the - night? It was impossible to tell in here.

Tired, but at least a little more energized they stumbled forward, further up the incline for what they were sure were hours, and suddenly, they could make out shapes again.

Very faintly at first, but after a while, they were sure they saw light ahead. Another hall? It did not matter, at least they would be out of this maddening darkness. Desperately they kept moving, and slowly, they were able to see the contours of the walls beside them. This time the light was different, and it seemed to be actual daylight, as now there were tiny algae growing on the stone beside them. Adaar felt so happy they almost collapsed.

Slowly, there were larger patches of algae and even moss visible on the walls, and when they found small sprouts of fern growing in the cracks of the stone, Adaar ripped them off and stuffed their mouth with them greedily. It was almost surely the best thing they had ever eaten, and there were more ahead.

When they were convinced they could not fit any more fronds into their sad, protesting stomach, they moved on once more and felt sick, but also a little less like a dead person. The light was now so strong, they realized, that they could make out almost everything, even some color, and it hurt their eyes a bit.

As they turned around another corner they finally saw it: a steep incline in front of them, with a round orb of light glowing at its top. Adaar began their feverish ascent and crawled more than walked, but there it was - an exit out of this tomb. After a hellish climb that left their legs trembling, they reached the top and stumbled forward a few feet, where they were suddenly hit with the full force of daylight surrounding them, as if they'd stepped into a furnace.

It was so bright Adaar had to shut their eyes, and collapsed onto their knees. After a few heavy breaths, they peered through their fingers, and saw the whole splendid reality of a gorgeous mountaintop ahead. There were some trees and barren rock, a ton of snow and above them, the endless, wonderful sky. Adaar felt a wave a relief wash over them and started crying, curled up into a ball of pain and exhaustion.

As they were lying on the ground, pushing out a few more desperate sobs, they realized how incredibly foolish that was. The icy chill crept in fast, as it was much colder out here than in the cave; they had no idea where to go, and no rations. With their eyes now somewhat accustomed to the glare, they looked around and found some more fern growing at the cave entrance. Adaar ate some more and stuffed their pouch full of them, chewed some more handfuls of snow - at least they would not die of thirst out here - and surveyed the area. They had absolutely no idea where they were, and everything was white.

Adaar realized they must have scaled one of the mountains from the inside, as the path behind them had been inclining steadily, which had made it so maddeningly difficult to walk. But which mountain? They looked around and realized they did not have much time to decide; the afternoon was already getting dimmer. Adaar tried to judge the position of the sun behind the clouds, but it was difficult to discern.

Finally, they thought they recognized the mountaintop behind them as the other side of the one that Haven's Chantry was built against. That must mean the others had come a similar path! Adaar also saw that there had been lots of snowfall recently, so it was impossible to tell the direction the group had taken in, should they really have been here.

They finally decided, with advanced, near-death arithmetic, that "that way" was the correct direction to go in. If they guessed right, this was where the troops' signal had come from, to the right of the mountain, as seen from the town. This was, of course, entirely speculative but there was really no time to hesitate, so they set out feeling sore, tired, close to collapsing and entirely alone in this world.

The day had progressed faster than they'd liked, and the only thing other than trees they had seen so far had been a single upturned cart, which had almost stopped their heart. This either meant they were headed the right direction, or that they had all been buried under another avalanche. Or it meant nothing at all. _No, it had to mean something. You can not lose hope now.  
_

After more miles of endless snow and tiny specks of trees in the distance, they saw it: a fireplace, just down the slope they were standing on. In a giddy frenzy, they rushed over to it, as their angry legs gave out and they promptly fell onto their face into the sharp, prickly snow. Slowly, they pulled their aching body up again, and crept over to feel the ashes. They were ice cold, just like the rest of this place. Adaar felt ready to sit down and be done with it all. It was getting dark and the snow had gotten softer and fresher, presumably because of the snowstorm which raged at the incline ahead, making it even harder to walk. They felt incredibly tired and decided to make camp for the night.

There were a few trees not too far from the fire, and Adaar could see a small stump amidst them. They investigated the remains of the small tree and scooped away some of the snow on it. It had definitely been cut down. Under the layer of icy crystals, they felt it: thick wet sap slowly oozing forward and freezing over quickly. This tree had been cut down one, maybe two days ago. There had been people here recently!

With a weary sigh, they dropped to the ground under one of the larger trees and started digging a little pit against the winds, like a half-dead wet rat. They broke off some branches from the other pines and started to cover their aching body with it. With what seemed to be the last energy they would ever possess, Adaar stuffed some more fern fronds into their mouth and fell into a deep slumber.

* * *

 They were about ready to give up, Cullen could feel it. Not out of a lack of determination, but the soldiers just would not make it much longer physically and soon, they would have to turn back. Maybe he should stay, send them back and keep wandering on his own - up into the storm, where he would find the Herald's lifeless, frozen body, so he could at least die knowing. It would be preferable to turning around now and returning empty-handed.

But Cullen could not give in to desperation now, though it was tempting. He kept imagining the Herald wandering in the white emptiness, alone, deserted and left to die by everyone, who would soon leave to never return to this mountain, dooming them to an unmarked, snowy grave. It was too much for him, he had to stop. Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, and felt a lump in his dry throat as the icy winds bit his face mercilessly.

Beside him, he heard muffled footsteps in the soft snow coming closer. Weakly, he looked up to see Cassandra, coming towards him and looking just as desperate as he was. Her voice, however, was strong and sure as always, thought she kept it low so the others would not hear. "I know it's maddening, Commander, but we have to believe. Stay faithful. I think we still have a chance of finding them. The Maker is watching over them, I know it." He was surprised to hear her say this, and part of him assumed her to say this only to console him. But she did not suggest turning back, though she seemed dead tired herself. He nodded and straightened his back. _You're a leader; act like it, damn you_.

He knew he had to be careful with raising his voice up here. The fresh snow above them could come down any moment, and he was not about to set loose an avalanche. "Soldiers! Fan out over to the right, and your over here; I will scale this incline and then we will regroup here for a break. Do it thoroughly. Remember there have been snowfalls." The implications of those last few words almost choked the Commander, and the word _buried_ now seemed to be seared into his forehead. He was sure the others could see it too.

Cullen started up the incline, toward where the snowstorm still whirled around the mountaintop, and his heart felt constricted, his body endlessly weak. He felt a hundred years older as with each step there became another maddening stoic white part of the mountain ahead visible, with no trace of the Herald.

He had to stop where the incline finally flattened, as his legs were about to give out. It was impossible. They would never find them here, and the Herald was most likely dead by all accounts. He stood on top of the snowy platform and looked down to his soldiers who were still circling the area, now slowly and all of them dead tired, he knew. And they still had to make it back. It would be dark when they'd finally arrive back at camp. He prayed he hadn't endangered the lives of his people today too recklessly and that they would all make it back safely. One group was already slowly making their way back to where Scout Harding had already instructed a few of her scouts to start a fire, and he felt sick to his core.

The Herald was likely buried up there somewhere under the snow, alone and cold, and no one would ever find them. Or they had died at Haven - that possibility seemed more and more plausible by the second. He breathed a heavy, defeated sigh, and determined to say at least one parting prayer in their honor before he resigned himself to some rest and admitting defeat.

Slowly, he produced a statue of Andraste from his pockets - it seemed fitting for the Herald - and placed it in the snow in front of him. He sank to one knee and folded his hands as the lump in his throat seemed ready to take over his whole body. He could not seem to find any words, so he choked out a weak _Andraste preserve them_ after a while, and, lowering his hands, he felt more foolish than ever. _You have done this a thousand times and now, when it matters, you fail. You always do._

Tears welled in his eyes - they deserved so much better than this, and he looked up with a sense of frustration with himself. They would need to hold a proper service when they were at a Chantry next. He couldn't even pay his respects right. The white snow blowing in front of him, together with the insurmountable peak, seemed to mock him, seemed to say, _I took them_. _I took them and I beat you, because I do as I please as I have done and stood for millennia, not subjected to the wishes and lives of you tiny humans._ If he listened closely, he thought he could even hear the words whispering in the wind. He must finally be going insane.

He cursed this monstrous, unscalable mountain and pounded his fist into the soft snow with a frustrated grunt. Exhausted and defeated, he knew it was finally time to go. Cullen lifted his eyes to the snowy peak one more time, hidden behind clouds and sighed raggedly. A little further off to the right, a few straggling soldiers who had been surveying the area around a small grove of trees were now returning. He watched the group of people slowly descend from the incline which was a little less steep there. He had picked the hardest, most arduous course for himself, but it was of course not enough punishment for what he'd done. It would never be enough.

Cullen saw the shadowy figures round the stony outcrop beside him and then disappear behind it for a moment, moving rather slowly all in all. They would do well to get out of here sooner rather than later, he had to admit that now. He was still responsible for these people, and-

Out of the corner of his eye, further to the left, he saw what seemed to be a lone straggler up the mountain, fairly far off from where he'd sent the group. They were stumbling in and out of the foggy clouds and if they moved up a little further, they would be in the midst of the snow storm. He slowly got up and rubbed his neck, wondering what on earth this scout was doing that far up the mountain. They almost seemed to be lost.

_Andraste preserve me, how hard can it be to walk down a mountain?_ Cullen shook his head and looked down toward the group the straggler belonged to, which now reappeared at the bottom of the incline, and seemed to have no inclinations to turn back and look for or retrieve the lost scout. On the contrary, they made their way to the fireplace and began taking off their gear. He shot another glance upward, where the shadowy figure almost wasn't visible against the fog and the storm clouds anymore, but there it was, staggering around in the cold, alone. _Maker's breath, now I have to go and save recruits. What kind of people has Harding brought with her?_

He cupped his hands around his mouth and, against his better judgement, shouted against the snowy peak. "Soldier! Down here, now!" The mountain answered almost immediately with a low rumble, and he regretted it instantly. With a shiver, he waited for any more signs of an avalanche, but mercifully, it seemed to have been a false alarm. From behind him, he heard a low unintelligible low yell, which must have come from Scout Harding or Cassandra. He turned, and saw the former ascending toward him. He shook his head and walked a few paces to the edge, motioning up to the peak behind him.

Harding waved for him to come down, but Cullen shook his head - _Were they really this disorganized? There is a person missing from your group._ He trotted downward to meet her partway and shouted another careful "Soldier! Up there!" at her. She was coming closer and threw her hands up in a questioning manner. "There's no one else up there, Commander. Have you seen a troll perhaps?"

Cullen turned around again and it was hard to tell from where he was standing now, but yes, there it was again, fleeting like a ghost, but he was sure. "That's no troll. They're right there, Harding. Who told you to go that far?" He looked at the woman intently, who only stared back expectantly and shrugged slowly and stared at the white wall with narrowed eyes, when realization hit him like a wagon load of bricks and he staggered backwards a few paces. _Maker's breath._

She caught on immediately and her eyes widened. "No way - I, oh hell!" She turned on her heel and rushed down the mountain, as Cullen whirled around the other way and staggered up the steep slope frantically. He was such an idiot. _Oh Maker have mercy_.

He reached the plateau again, completely out of breath now, and stared at the clouds intently but he could not see anything in the white blurry mist for a moment, as his heart was gripped by icy terror. There! He saw the shadow again, which now stumbled more than they walked and he waved his arms, still not daring to shout, but they did not seem to take notice. He started up the second incline and the figure now stepped out of the snowy fog. Now he was almost certain he saw them. Horns.

With his heart racing, he advanced toward the person's outline, _just a little further come on_ , when he saw them collapse and disappear from his view. His breath caught in his throat, _no, please, Maker, no_. He hastened forward with no regard for his burning legs which were ready to give out underneath him any time, as he pushed himself forward in the soft white snow. Rounding a small snowy mound in front of him, he suddenly saw them again.

Snow had already started to cover them, a blurry outline which seemed larger and at the same time smaller than anything he'd ever seen. They were lying face down in the snow and did not move. He finally reached the body in a panic and his hands shook so badly he wasn't sure he could ever use them again. It was the Herald.

"Herald! No, Maker, please!" He collapsed onto his knees next to them and slowly turned over the heavy frame, which seemed the be frozen already. He was unable to breathe for a moment as he looked down into the blue, swollen face of the Herald, who lay in front of him motionlessly. With a shiver that gripped his entire body, he pulled the glove off his right hand, as it trembled so severely that he had considerable effort doing so.

Hesitantly, he placed his ungloved hand against the Herald's neck while the bitter wind was biting into his skin already and snow whirled around them. The storm was now so close it whipped at his coat and the howling roar was so loud it seemed to drown out his own thoughts. As his skin gingerly touched the Qunari's, he jolted backward and panic gripped his heart, stopping time. They were ice cold.

He breathed in deeply and tried to get some order into his swirling thoughts. _You can't lose it now, they need you_. With another hesitant movement, he wrapped his hand around the side of the Herald's muscular neck, which felt entirely like that of a corpse, and he shivered again. His vision was about to desert him and he felt nauseated. Desperately, he croaked out what was more a whisper against the raging storm than anything else. "Herald, can you hear me?" There was no reply, and no movement from them. "Please, Herald! Maker, no..." Cullen's heart was encased in a bitter and heavy resin which threatened to choke him. "You can't be dead, no, please...Adaar!"

He dropped his head and started choking up heavy sobs, a sad sight no doubt, but he could not help it, and it did not matter anymore. They were dead. He had come too late and the Herald...they were... Frenzied, he stopped in his pitiful display of failure for a moment; had they just moved? "Herald...Adaar?" Cullen dared not breathe, he was so terrified that there would be no response again, but suddenly slowly, with a faint delicate flutter their eyelids opened just the tiniest bit, like the wings of a dying moth.

 


	18. Hard to be soft, tough to be tender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tremble  
> They're gonna eat me alive  
> If I stumble

Cullen had trouble focusing, more than usual, he thought. The day was a little too bright where things seemed blurry around the edges, and everything bled together into one incessantly loud and sharp mess that made his ears ring.

After the Herald had been recovered in the snow, still breathing but so weak - like a small candle in a snow storm, everything had happened very fast. Scout Harding had been the one who had kept it together admirably, and he was grateful for it, since he couldn't say the same for himself. The stocky woman had come running up the hill with Qunari in tow while he'd kneeled there somehow paralyzed and helpless. The three men, who were each built like a barn had surrounded them and Cullen had seen them look down - he was sure they or someone else had said something, but he'd been very much unable to make out any words. From a mile away, he'd felt a hand placed on his shoulder, pulling his body back gently and registered it like you do with a passing stranger, an anecdote in your day. He'd looked down at the freckled fingers on the shoulders of a person far away and had tried his best to piece together the correlation between this gesture and the state of things at the time, but all he felt was nausea for some reason, and a steady pounding in his temples.

He remembered looking up into the face beneath the fiery red hair and seeing that besides Harding's, a lot of other eyes were on him. Embarrassed over how undignified he was behaving, he'd tried his best to snap back into reality, moving over in a trance, but moving still. In an instant, the pale body before him had been heaved onto a stretcher and covered in blankets. Cullen had watched all of this with strangely insistent disbelief and confusion. "Mages, over here, quickly now!" The bright-eyed woman now had beckoned two cloaked people over who'd been completely out of breath from scaling the incline behind him and one of them was wearing mismatched gloves; somehow, the most inane details about the whole affair had stuck with him. "Here, warm them up, gently though! Don't go too fast or too hot, and start at the extremities. You'll need to..."

Again, Cullen had slowly lost focus and pinched the bridge of his nose. There'd been too much tumult around him, making him feel dizzy. He'd tied to redirect his attention to the Herald, who was still lying on the ground with their head rolled to the side, their eyes closed with a strange tense expression on their lifeless face. His chest had constricted and he'd felt how shallow his breath was, he'd seemed to be gasping for air almost, making it even harder to concentrate on the Herald's outline in the snow flurries around them. Cullen remembered shoving his trembling hands into the frozen layers of his coat while the cold stung his knuckles and crept up his wrists, though he'd acknowledged it without feeling too much discomfort. Everything had seemed very matter-of-fact and out of his hands, so he'd dully accepted the situation laid out before him: the Herald was likely dead, he had failed and they were wasting their time on this cursed mountain.

He scarcely remembered at all how they'd transported the Herald back to the others; we was simply a passerby in all of it, though at times Cassandra had directed some words toward him, and he knew he had answered, though his thoughts were miles away and so seemed the Herald. If only he could find them there, bring them back to the here and now.

Back at the camp everything had happened almost by itself and without much effort on his side, though he had shouted a few disjointed orders at people, which must have made sense somehow, because people obliged without much chagrin in the ice cold night. He'd seen the burly men disappear in a tent, the Herald still on their stretcher which was now covered in a fine sheen of snow, and he had had no idea whether the body under those covers was warm or cold. Cullen had looked at the grey outline of the makeshift infirmary for a moment, then turned and meandered over to his tent with no one bothering him. He had been unimportant and redundant in the whole process, and for once, he was glad for it.

As the sun now crept higher and slowly reached the top of the peaks surrounding them, illuminating the platform where they had sought shelter in a pink glow, people were bustling back and forth between the tents and everything in the camp seemed a bit more alive all of a sudden, not just because of the daylight. The atmosphere was brighter, hopeful, even. He envied the soldiers with their newfound energy, but also felt deep dark pity pulling at him with a hint of despair. He tried his best to shake it off and stay positive; so far there had been no bringer of bad news today. Let the people have their hope, he thought, and made an effort to mean it, but the situation was grim, no matter how he looked at it. They were still up here, in this cursed maze of ice and snow, rations were running very low and they had not figured out where to go next yet. Still, before he could even think of attending a council meeting, he needed to see the Herald, for better or worse.

He neared the large grey tent slowly and all his intentions died down rapidly and almost altogether as he stepped closer. He needed to be ready for any news, to face whatever may lie inside it, but he knew he was not, not in the slightest. Despite this, he found himself stepping up to the entrance as worry encased his every thought, but before he could lift the flaps of heavy fabric, a person emerged rather hastily. Startled, he felt the blood drain from his face and froze in place. Before him stood Adan, looking like death himself - it was clear he had not slept all night. He was giving some unintelligible instructions to his assistant and as he turned to leave, he almost ran into Cullen.

With a surprised and slightly annoyed look on his face, he stared at the Commander with red, watery eyes and scowled. "Did you need something?" Cullen felt like slapping the man. But he thought better of it and motioned to the tent behind him. "The Herald. How..are they..." He felt foolish like a child but could not for the life of him bring up a commanding tone of voice. Instead, he sounded like a child telling a grown-up how very sorry they were. For what? He had done nothing wrong - _except take far too long to find the Herald and endanger their life in the first place_.

Adan sighed, rubbing rubbed his forehead and Cullen felt weak, too weak to stand. If only he could hold onto something. The buzzing in his ears got so loud he almost didn't hear what the Healer said next. "I'll be honest with you Commander, it doesn't look good. They've sustained a lot of injuries, most of them internal, then they've been in the cold for far too long, and I'm not sure how much I can do for them at this point. We will have to see." Cullen had to let a few of his heartbeats pass before he could think again; it was devastating news, but he was glad for them nonetheless. "So they - they're alive?" It seemed impossible, but Adan had said nothing contrary. "For now, yes. Now please, I need sleep." And with that, he pushed past the Commander, who was left to stare at the smooth mound of cloth that contained the Herald. Safe for now, and alive.

* * *

"...for three days! What are we supposed to do? Just keep waiting? There is no more time, Leliana!" Cullen's head was ablaze with a thousand thoughts today, and each of them kept spinning around and around in the same manner they had done a thousand times now, not getting him anywhere. He groaned and leaned back in his flimsy deerskin chair, which was just about the most uncomfortable thing he had ever sat in, and rubbed his neck, closing his eyes for a moment. Behind his lids, his eyes burned like fire, dry and strained from the constant lack of sleep and staring at the few maps they had of the area, which maddeningly showed nothing. Peaks after peaks of giant, jagged rock outlines surrounded them and there seemed to be no safe way to go forward at all. All of it was covered in snow which made movement anywhere perilous and nearly impossible. To add to this, there was precious little information about where glaciers or caves were hiding under the deceivingly pure, soft white blanket.

"We can't just charge forward, we have civilians with us, carts and animals, children - refugees! All of whom could die if we make one wrong move on this terrain!" Cassandra was looking at the Spymaster exasperated and threw her hands up. "We have to do _something_!" Next to him, Josephine was hiding behind a stack papers containing who knows what information, maybe none. She was taking this the hardest, he thought. While the others let their tempers flare and fought back and forth to no avail, she kept mostly quiet. At first, she had tried to keep the peace in these meetings which seemed to now have merged into one continuous talk that never stopped, but her spirits were getting low, he could tell, and she'd given up on diplomacy when she saw it was no use. They all knew too well how big the burden was that rested on them, and none could think of a good way to progress. Which meant there was no way. It was live or die out here, and they could not take any chances. But the situation was getting more and more dire. Rations were now very low, though the soldiers had found some game in the scarce forests, and they still had the oxen and horses to fall back onto, but those were very much needed to get them out or here, and far too valuable to eat. 

At least most of the soldiers had recovered at this point, or as well as they would out here. All except the Herald, of whom they had neither seen nor heard anything for the past few days. It seemed they were alive, which was the report they got from Adan every morning, but beyond that, nothing. It was one of the main reasons why spirits were so low. Everyone had been pretty excited when they'd been brought back to camp, but now the wait was wearing people out, as there was nothing to do on this cursed mountain. At least the weather had been fairly stable, as it seemed that all the storms were caught and weakened by the tall peak that overlooked them - the one where they had found the Herald. In a ridiculously ironic way it almost seemed to be looking over them, which was a thought far further removed from sanity than he liked in himself, but they had to take their blessings as they came right now, and it had, in a way, delivered the Herald alive and more or less well to them, just at the right time and place for him to find.

Cullen rubbed his forehead - he was getting sentimental and that was never a good sign. The sleep deprivation must be really getting to him. He pushed himself up from the chair and the turmoil of voices around him suddenly died down. "Where are you going? Do you have a suggestion you'd like to add? You can't just _leave_ now." Cassandra looked worse than he'd ever seen her, her hair a complete mess and with deep black circles under her eyes. Cullen shook his head and made his way to the entrance of the tent. "This is getting us nowhere. I need a break." He turned his back to the woman quickly, who, he could see, now had even more fire in her eyes. "What do you mean - you _can't_ -" As he ducked outside, he heard Leliana say something in return, no doubt reassuring and affirming his need for a break, thank the Maker. With his left hand on his sword's pommel, he was looking up to a mountaintop on which the sun's glare in the snow was already getting dimmer. Another day with no solution. He knew he could not give up hope now, but it was getting harder and harder by the hour. If only there was some idea they could hold onto, but-

Behind him, the fabric flaps of the tent were suddenly pushed back and Josephine slid through, breathing a heavy sigh as soon as she was outside. Neither of them said a word standing side by side for a moment, as he felt the cold, light mountain air brush through his hair and sting his face, a welcome change from the stuffy tent nonetheless. He looked over at the Antivan, who was still steadfastly wearing her golden silks which were now quivering with every smallest movement of the ice cold wind. "Ambassador, you really ought to get a coat for when you are outside like this. We can't afford you to get sick now." She looked up at him with her deep, lively brown eyes and he could see the warmth she usually exuded was very much dimmed. Still, she was never unpleasant or desperate, ever the image of self-control and manners. A strength he could only hope to possess. People called him _iron_ and _immovable_ and _unflinching_ , but he had nothing on this dainty woman in terms of composure. "I will head back inside again soon, Commander, do not trouble yourself. Then I will ask our two lovely ladies of the Inquisition to vacate my tent, because I cannot take any more of this back and forth, especially in this volume." Cullen mused at at the fiery look on her face, a rare emotional outbreak for her, but she was back to her collected self in an instant, breathing another heavy sigh and smoothing her skirts. "Please do take some time off from this yourself, I think today's meeting is concluded. Thank you very much, Commander." And with a perfect bow toward him she slipped back into the tent, leaving Cullen once again more than happy that the bulk of the Inquisition's diplomatic obligations were not resting on him instead.

Swiftly, he turned his back to the tent and headed back towards his own, not desiring to get roped into another fight with Cassandra or Leliana. On his way he passed many worn out faces and people huddled by the fires, not many looking at him, which he was glad for, as he still had no solution to their plight. He meandered through the stations of their camp, thinking he should look for food before he did anything else. He had been eating precious little and seldomly, and he could definitely not afford to lose his strength now. Lost in thought, he rounded the now very familiar corners without looking up and then stopped, puzzled and taken aback with himself. He was standing right in front of the infirmary tent, looking up at its grey fabric walls that gave away nothing about what was happening inside, and he felt something tug at his insides, blood rushing in his ears. He was getting very cold, and there was likely food to be found inside, he mused, and besides, he had not seen for himself how...well... Still, he could not bring himself to go inside.

Cullen was fiddling with his sword's pommel absentmindedly debating what to do, when he heard two familiar voices behind him. The Spymaster and Cassandra were still arguing over something, it seemed, and they were coming his way. _Maker's breath_. He glanced over his shoulder and saw them heading roughly in his direction. Without thinking, he turned and slipped into the tent.

Inside, it was warm and dark, and every sound seemed muffled by an invisible force field. Maybe there was one, he was not informed of what Adan had put in place here. Why would he be? This was not part of his duties, not at all. Cullen waited for a few moments to calm his breath - it seemed as if he was not supposed to be here for some reason; he felt like he was trespassing. _That's ridiculous_ , he told himself while he tried to steady his trembling hands. _You're the Commander of the Inquisition. Of course you can be in here_. Slowly, as if to convince himself of this fact, he wandered further toward the back, enjoying the unfamiliar quiet inside. His eyes had not yet accustomed to the dark and he was running his right hand along the wall of the tent so as not to stumble over anything. It seemed so much bigger on the inside, he thought. There was no sound except the steady breathing of some sleeping patients, and he felt more at peace than he'd had in days. There was incense burning and his head finally stopped spinning a bit. On a table along the left wall, he spied some bread - he knew the cooks always carried a lot of food in here, more than these mostly sleeping people would be able to eat. Eagerly, he grabbed a piece.

While he was enjoying this treat, both the bread and the silence, he realized how incredibly silly he must look. Cullen looked around to make sure there were no people waking up, but all was calm. Relieved, he turned and took a step to the right, but he must have miscalculated the distance, as he slammed his shin into a sharp corner and almost yelped in pain but thought better of it, rubbing his leg in silence instead while moaning quietly. _So stupid._ What was he doing in here? He didn't even know where the-

As he looked down, he realized what he had ran into. It was a bed, or more of a makeshift cot, on which he could see, under many blankets and furs, the outline of a person. Cullen swallowed the last piece of bread hard, and it seemed like lead going down his throat. There, on the pillow, he could clearly make out the shape of two curled horns, winding around the patient's head with an elegant and strange twist he had so often caught himself looking at, wondering what it was like to have these on your head. Then he saw it was not so much a pillow but a roll of cloth apparently supporting their neck, with their head turned to the side on top of it. The nurses had apparently gone through a lot of trouble adding several pillows, which were now strewn around the head end of the bed, all of them fallen off and a few ripped open. He had to suppress a laugh. Cullen had always wondered how Qunari sleep and it seemed it was not the way the healers had anticipated. The Herald was wrapped in several blankets and their cheeks had a fairly healthy colour. He felt relief like he had not known in a long time. There they were, alive and seemingly well, or at least doing better. He leaned in a bit closer, and there it was, steady and deep, their breath went in and out, in and out, like a child's. Cullen grabbed the chair next to the bed, as he suddenly felt dizzy, and so overcome with joy all of a sudden that he had to sit down.

It was quiet around them for a while, as Cullen watched the Herald's outline, still not believing fully - he thought they could vanish again at any moment, and so he stared at them intently. Their face was turned away from him and he watched as the ripples of their hair flowed down next to their neck. He had only seen it in a bun, but now it was open and he saw it was fairly long, pooled around their head like a puddle of calm water. He had trouble putting a name to the coulour, it was a mix between grey and almost like a dark steel black. He was feeling progressively calmer, and realized how tired he actually was. They looked so warm and comfortable, and he longed for his own bed. Maybe he could just allow himself to doze off, just for a moment...

He must have closed his eyes for a second, because they shot open again as he heard a rustle that seemed to rip the leaden silence in the tent apart like the shattering of glass. In front of him, the fairly large frame of the Qunari was moving as they rolled over to the side, lifting their head and with a low rumble in their chest, they threw some of the furs off the bed and propped their head down again, now facing him. Their muscular arms were now exposed and he saw several cuts and bruises running along them. A linen shirt covered their chest, as their hair flowed down their jaw and from behind their neck. Their eyebrows were knit in a deep scowl, but they seemed to be very much asleep. Cullen stared down at them, realizing he must have jumped up from the chair and now held onto it for dear life with one hand. What if they had woken up just now? What in the Maker's sweet Grace was he doing here? His cheeks were burning as he turned from their bedside and hastily groped his way outside. The low light outside the tent blinded him with a searing pain behind his eyes, but he staggered away from the tent and hastened toward his own.


	19. Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragging along, follow in your form  
> Hung like the pelt of some prey you had worn  
> Remember me, love, when I'm reborn  
> As the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

There was fire. Brimstone. Earth upturned, ripped open like a giant corpse itself. Flame licking at the skin, never to mend again. My neighbor takes a fall for me, I run, I want to hide. There is nowhere to hide. His eyes see all. Breath like a hammer, pounding down my chest. My arms heavy, leaden, cannot, will not carry the burden they have placed on me. I start to cry. Tears evaporate like steam in the dark, small and uncounted. I grip the wooden staff that has carried me so far with heavy hands, my friends I have abandoned, hope that I have not done this too late. There the skin falls off his face like a grotesque unfinished puppet, he is nearing, no, fear grabs my heart - I cannot protect them and he will swallow me whole, please not again

The light is dim, but it still burns. Head hurts like a million times of drinking have caught up all in an instant. Throat dry, everything is pain. Slowly, limbs start to move, feel numb like through woolen blankets, constricted, can't breathe, why is it so hot? There is now fire everywhere that burns instead of the cold before, oh how good this cold would be now compared to this heat! Several things fall, clatter, sounds that seem unfamiliar and too rough, air too thick, need to breathe, where is the light coming from? Stagger onward, legs like meat you have cooked too long and falls off the bone, groping the walls, can't see, push through, can't see, blind and white-

* * *

Cullen had to suppress a yawn. This was wearing him out quicker than he'd like today. He would need to leave, and soon, before he fell off his chair. The others had no strength for fighting left, but still they went on, listless even in their flaring tempers. Josephine wore a deep scowl and it seemed very out of place on her usually bright face; there was no smirk or fire accompanying it. Everyone was at their wits' end. Cassandra and Leliana were studying a large map they had looked at a hundred times now, and he was leafing through some others, looking for something, anything that might give them a clue of what to do next. The tendons in his neck were stiff as steel rods and every muscle in his back was tense and aching. _Please, Maker, I cannot go on like this_. _Give us a sign, a hint, anything_. He rubbed his neck and stretched his aching muscles, cracking several vertebrae in the process. How long had they been in there? What time was it?

"...gone over this. This pass is too dangerous. -Because we do not know how steep this actually slopes down and how stable the ground is! -Well because these ancient maps are garbage!" Cassandra was in a foul mood today and he could not even fault her for it. It was absolutely hopeless. They would need to pick a path before the day after tomorrow as there was absolutely no time left. This was it. They had failed spectacularly, this mission to save them had doomed them all in the end. Gloom spread over him and he dropped the papers into his lap. "Because the crevasses in the glacier are unpredictable Cassandra! You _cannot_ map them! And they - oh, what in blazes is that noise about?!" Cullen looked up and now saw all three women looking at the tent's exit in silence. There was indeed some kind of commotion happening outside. Blood rushed to his head and the fatigue was gone in an instant. He stood quickly and grabbed the hilt of his sword while Cassandra and Leliana were hastening outside already. Would they never have a moment's peace on this cursed rock?

He held the tent's flaps open for Josephine who wrapped herself in some bearskin, sensible but still not thrilled as he could see. The two others were moving toward a crowd that was gathered outside where people were yelling while others were huddled in hushed whispers. The hair on his neck stood up as Cassandra's voice boomed over the people, "Make way everyone!" and they pushed through the people.

The four of them stepped through the crowd which was now silent as a grave and gave way to the center of the agitation. There, a little further off to where he was standing, a tall grey-skinned person was swaying on their legs like an unsteady golem, propped up outside the infirmary tent on their staff and looking around bewildered with hair flying in the harsh wind which was tugging at their thin inpatient garments. The eyes in their pale face seemed unfocused as they squinted first at the mountains surrounding them, then at the people who stood around them, looking at the Qunari with bated breath. Everyone was stunned into silence and stared like sheep. With a hoarse, breaking voice, they croaked out the shaky words everyone seemed to be waiting for: "Where in the _fuck_ are we".

In an instant, everyone was thrown out of their stupor. A nurse rushed over to the Herald and wrapped them in a blanket. Josephine flew past Cullen and added her bearskin on their shoulders, leaving her with nothing but her silks again. Everyone moved around some way or another yelling, leaving Cullen like a statue frozen in place in the midst of it, his stare fixed on the Herald, not believing what he saw and definitely not knowing what to do. People tried to push the Herald back into the tent but they relented for some reason, he could not hear their words over the tumult of voices around him. While Adan was fussing over them, their gaze wandered up over the crowd and landed squarely on Cullen, who was left to stare dumbly. Their eyes were burning into his skin like fire and he felt like a fool, embarrassed by how just the night before, he'd watched them sleep and embarrassed by his inaction and incompetence now. His face burning and with trembling hands and knees like butter, he turned and pushed past the people, away from them.

* * *

"And I am telling you I'm fine! I just need some air, stop shoving me!" Adaar tried to shake off the people who seemed to be clinging onto them for dear life while around them, everything was chaos. Adan was fussing over a cut and finally they held out their arm relenting, seeing as a bandage had come off of it and blood was trickling down in a steady stream. _Where in the fuck indeed?_ They looked around again, confused and impatient - would someone maybe tell them what the hell was happening? There were mountains all around them and tents strung up, a smell of horses and fire and faintly like latrines, which made Adaar's stomach roil. There were so many people. All of them bustling around now, yelling something at each other. Further to the back something caught their eye - a person was standing still in the midst of all this, like a pole in turbulent water - and stared at them. They squinted at the outline and could vaguely make out bright blond hair and a large fur coat. The Commander. He was standing in between the people, fairly far away and just....looked at them for a moment with a blank expression it seemed. Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Adan was now pulling at their arm and insisting they go sit down, so Adaar threw their hands up and relented. "Alright fine! I'll come. Calm down, I just couldn't breathe in there. Yes I'm _coming_!"

Sitting on the cot in the hot stuffy tent, Adaar looked around the room they had just stumbled out of and felt like they were in the passenger seat in their own life, just riding along. Josephine was bubbling on about how they had saved everyone and the mountains, _oh Maker, the mountains_! She seemed not too fond of them. Oh, and everyone was just so happy they were alright, and alive and back and on and on it went until Adan was scowling so hard they were afraid someone might get hurt, so Adaar sent everyone out but the Healers, who were busy prodding and tugging and treating their body with some poultice or another. They endured it, since everyone seemed to be so very happy about it, and everyone looked tired as _fuck_. Well almost everyone, they thought, and anger rose up within them. What was the Commander's problem? The way he had looked at them from across the whole platform, scowling and steely as ever, confused and almost angry, and then he had just...rushed off?

They tried to sleep, lying in the humid tent as people had instructed them to do to get ready for the journey ahead as Solas had laid out for them, but the complete silence mixed with the steady breathing of the other patients and the multiple smells of incense and medicine was enough to drive them mad soon. So Adaar threw on the robes the Healer had left for them and headed out again, dizzy, but glad to have some fresh air. They had been lying around for far too long, and their body was feeling it. Stiff in the joints and a dull ache in their head from the blood that struggled to circulate again after this period of doing nothing, they moved through camp where people were hiding in their tents for the most part already. Stars were out, blinking down on them through the smoke that still rose from several fires, and the few people who were out stared and greeted them or simply gawked in quiet awe. _Back from the dead_ , Adaar thought, _see the Herald perform another one of their accidental miracles_. This was just what they needed, a reason to be alienated further from everyone. Maybe some mingling with the troops tomorrow before they started off would help.

They hoped to get an update from Josephine or Leliana; Cassandra would be fast asleep already, they knew, as she was always the one who was up the earliest. But which one of these tents was whose? Adaar guessed that the larger ones must belong to someone important, and headed towards one of them, carefully placing their aching feet down with every step so as not to make a spectacle of the Herald keeling over in the dark and swearing in front of everyone. _Might make me more approachable though_.

Having arrived in front of a large tent with two soldiers placed in front of it (who seemed miserable and cold as could be), they mused about how in hell they were supposed to knock on a piece of fabric, but then decided to just enter if the guards said it was alright to do so.

The two young soldiers straightened their backs with a look of surprise and almost horror when Adaar stood before them, and saluted with stiff fingers. "W-what can we do for you, Herald of Andraste?" One of them barely had a single hair on their lip yet and the other was so short she barely reached Adaar's navel. Both were fiddling with their weapons nervously and looked at them like puppies that had just opened their eyes for the first time. Wonderful protection, indeed.

"I need to see the Ambassador, is this the right tent?" Adaar stepped closer and the two looked ready to soil themselves. "Y-yes, Herald, I mean, Worship! I will announce you ASAP!" Adaar had to suppress a laugh, because that would be cruel. The way this greener than green recruit had actually pronounced the individual letters ASAP melted their heart in a way they were not used to with humans. They really were like puppies sometimes. "Easy now, soldier. I don't need anyone announcing me, I can do that myself. Try not to freeze off your bums will you? And make sure you are relieved soon!" With a swift movement Adaar lightly pushed aside the boy's arm and moved into the tent, leaving them standing outside bewildered and stunned into silence.

Inside, a lively fire was burning and two people seemed engrossed in a conversation. Now Adaar knew why they needed to announce visitors, because these two did not register anything going on outside their talk. "But what if they cannot make it? This seems like a huge risk, Ambassador." The smaller woman was talking fast and using her hands a lot to illustrate her points, a feature Adaar had come to find very dear and charming. "We do not really have a choice, Commander. I have every bit of faith that the Herald can-" The tall, broad-shouldered man cut her off and waved his hands in front of her in brisk gestures, clumsy compared to her airy mannerisms, and he was nowhere as refined in speech and tone as the Ambassador. "I do too, of course, but I'm just worried, I do not fully trust that this person has all the right reasons working for the Inquisition as they claim." Josephine pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, a rare moment of lapse in decorum for her. _She must be dead tired_. "Not this again, please Commander. It is too late tonight, we will just have to trust and-" Adaar stepped closer and cleared their throat, causing the two to whirl around and stare at them wide-eyed.

"Who don't we trust?" Adaar felt a bit embarrassed for having listened in so long, but they were also glad to have heard this - the Advisors usually never shared things like these with them. The Commander didn't say a thing and simply stared at them with his mouth in a thin, hard line, and a healthy pink creeping up his neck and cheeks. Josephine snapped out of her gloomy mood immediately after the first moment of surprise and ran over, patting Adaar's hand and showering them in multitudes of airy phrases underlining how happy she was to see them recovered and well. _Nice try_ , Adaar thought. You really could get lost in the praise and flatter she doused you with to completely forget what you originally wanted, so charming and enchanting was this woman, but the effect was somehow dimmed by the Commander standing next to them, rubbing his neck and looking like a dog that was sitting on something he was not supposed to, and now couldn't get down.

"Yes, I am feeling quite well, thank you. Now can I ask what you were talking about before?" Josephine seemed a bit let down that her charm had not been enough to derail their line of thought, but the Commander looked frankly panicked now, which made Adaar want to know what was going on even more. "Commander? Care to fill me in?" The man's breath visibly caught in his chest and he swallowed hard, his eyes glued to Adaars', but somehow he seemed unable to speak. Adaar furrowed their brows and stepped closer. "What is going on?" At this, he actually took a step back, barely visible, but they caught it and it totally threw them off. Bewildered, they looked at the man, whose face was now stone hard and he seemed to be trying to suppress his anger. "It's nothing." With that, he rushed past the both of them and outside the tent. Confused, Adaar stepped aside unwittingly, and stared after him in a stupor. _What the hell_.

Back in their tent, Adaar's head was stuffed full of information that they barely knew what to do with. It seemed they had come back from their comatose state just in time, as they desperately needed to leave this encampment. It was all good though, because Solas knew a way forward, toward some kind of fortress, Skyfall or something, and they would all leave first thing in the morning, which Adaar already knew. What they didn't still know was who the untrustworthy party in their midst was the two of them had been discussing, and not for the first time it seemed. All Josephine would tell them was "He still has troubles trusting mages sometimes" and that was no big help.

Then it hit them, and everything was clear. The untrustworthy party was Adaar. He was not happy they were back because he'd thought they would not make it. Wouldn't that solve a lot of problems? Feverishly, they recalled all the disapproving looks, the endless silences, and disdain in his voice all those times before. Their heart pounded in their chest harder and faster. They felt like such a fool. Used again, their stupid heart had decided to trust someone and look where it had gotten them. All this bullshit about how he was only here to serve, how he was loyal and not a Templar anymore, just so he could use them to throw at the gaping mouth of darkness and fire, and Adaar had fallen for it. And now he was apparently trying to get rid of them. _Well too bad, because this ox isn't killed that easily_.

* * *

They were packing up and the whole camp was chaos. That elf, Solas, had appeared out of nowhere and apparently told the Herald about an ancient fortress somewhere in these mountains, which for some reason was not on any of the similarly ancient maps they possessed. But since they had absolutely no other choice, they decided to follow this lead and people were getting in gear fast, but a little uncoordinated. He had given the soldiers clear instructions, but they too were tired and these were a lot of people. He sighed deeply and packed his papers tightly into a bundle, wrapping it in leather. Owning few belongings and having taken even fewer from Haven, he was done quickly and soon Cullen was packing his tent and his other possessions onto his horse. The day was still very young and only a glimmer of light was visible along the horizon, promising sun and only little snowfall if they were lucky. He resolved to fit in some time to pray and give thanks for the safe return of the Herald to life and to them. There was a quiet space around a wall of stone that he liked to seek solitude in, and he started off toward it in the cold morning air.

He had fashioned a small shrine out of some rocks there, and now cleared the snow off of them before he placed his small statuette of Andraste on them. Kneeling down, he tried to get his multitude of thoughts in order and recited the words that were part of him like of his own flesh.

O Creator, see me kneel  
For I walk only where You would bid me  
Stand only in places You have blessed  
Sing only the words You place in my throat

My Creator, judge me whole  
Find me well within Your Grace  
Touch me with fire that I be cleansed  
Tell me I have sung to Your approval

Prayer had always made him feel so much calmer, and he was glad he had found the time today. The sun was now slowly rising over the lowest crags in the distance and it would soon be time to leave. The cold started to creep up his joints and he slowly rose from his kneeling position, stretching his shoulders in the morning mist. Everything still ached, but since yesterday things seemed a little easier altogether.

Like a mirage, their hero had appeared before them, disheveled but alive, come back from the dead and they had all been there to witness it. He recalled how the late sunlight had glinted in their steel coloured hair, like a weapon doused in fire, their skin underneath it icy grey and with a marvelous, almost blue sheen to it that not even the numerous bruises and cuts could mar. A formidable sight indeed. He had always admired Qunari for their stature and energy, they were ferocious and wild in a way that was so foreign to him. They were all built like brick houses somehow, without ever seeming to put too much effort into it - even the mages. The Herald was no exception, and he recalled how in awe everyone had been when they had first arrived at Haven, including him. Their first conversation had been a bit of a disaster, and he knew he was to blame for it. Everyone in Redcliffe had told him the Qunari could not be talked to on a civilized basis, let alone reasoned with - that they were just one rung above animals, really. He felt hot searing shame creep up in him, for he knew he had believed it, and to no small part. How unworthy of him, how absolutely shameful. He knew better now, but that did not excuse his prejudice in the first place.

Cullen also felt reproach for how foolish he had acted the day before. Sometimes he felt like all his training and expertise abandoned him, his nerves completely getting the better of him and making him act like a recruit fresh from the farms. Somehow, this was only ever the case when it came to the Herald. He had no problem leading an army, delegating even the most delicate strategic tasks or keeping calm in the face of danger. But when this mage looked at him with their steely blue eyes that seemed colder than deepest winter and harder than any rock, all of this experience and talent was useless. He had tried to put his finger on it, to find out where this uneasiness came from. He trusted them completely, of course, and it wasn't so much that he was afraid, but their eyes somehow seemed to look right into his soul and to say, _I see every last failure and flaw in you, every weakness is laid bare in front of me and I see that you are a fraud_.

He knew rationally this wasn't true; the Herald respected him and trusted Cullen with his military advice and technical expertise, but as a person, he felt he had nowhere to hide when the Herald was near, and all his shortcomings were laid bare clear as day. He sighed deeply and rubbed his aching neck. He couldn't wait to sleep in a real bed again, and he hoped to the Maker that this Skyhold place had some. First they needed to get there though, and it seemed as if this was going to be accomplished by a two-day march. Cullen felt somewhat uneasy placing the sensitive task of navigating them through the mountains on the elf; he seemed too fleeting and detached from reality to be trusted with such an endeavor, but everyone else seemed reasonably assured by his ability to lead them. The Herald would take the lead with him, and he hoped they were ready for it. It seemed a bit rushed, to have them take on such a march just after they had woken up, but they really had no other choice but to start today, if they wanted to ensure the safety of all their people.

As he was lost in thought like this, walking back through the outer lines of the camp where people were packing up and extinguishing fires, brushing down horses and swaddling their children in carts, a million things that still needed to be done, he heard boisterous laughter from one of the groups and inadvertently turned his head towards it. They hadn't had a lot of laughter the last couple of days and he was glad to hear it again. Several soldiers and civilians were grouped together and sniggering about something. Though he was glad they had found their spirits again, this was no time to slack off, and so he straightened his shoulders and got ready to give out orders to help pack up. When one of the soldiers spied him though, they stopped whatever conversation they were engrossed in, dispersed or saluted him briefly and fled like a flock of birds, off to their duties, hopefully. What was left of the group was the enigmatic center they had been pooled around, and they turned to face him now.

* * *

Well that was just fucking perfect. Always ready to destroy whatever morale people had left, always close to ruin your day. Adaar turned to see the cause of the soldiers' hasty departure, and it was, of course, the Commander. Looking steely and stiff as a broom as ever, with a strange scowl on his face that turned into mild surprise and confusion as he was face to face with them. Adaar crossed their arms in front of their chest, and this seemed to put him off even more. _Good_.

"My Herald." he bowed towards Adaar slightly and saluted. _Fuck I hate when he does that. Bullshit Templar rite._ They could still see it, the ingrained movement, jerky and soulless like an automaton, even if it wasn't the proper Templar salute, there was still _Chantry fucker_ written all over it. "I am glad to see you well again." Adaar tuned out almost immediately but told themself every bit of information is important. Listen to every word and you will understand your enemy in ways they don't even understand themselves. When they did not reply, he started to fiddle with the pommel of his sword, a subconscious nervous tic he had that grated on their nerves. Adaar sighed and raised their eyebrows at him - was there anything else he wanted to add to this charade? The man seemed at a loss for words, one of his most frequent weak points that emerged. "Are...are you ready to travel? I have made all the arrangements with the troops, we just need to get the people ready and then we are set to leave." His voice was thin somehow and though he was trying to sound commanding and in charge, there was a tinge of uncertainty in it. Did they make him nervous? Probably, come back from the dead as they had in their mage-y oxman way. _Even better_.

Adaar straightened their back and gave him the iciest stare they could muster, looking down on him with a mixture of boredom and detached annoyance. "Sure." They thought they saw a faint quiver in his throat and a tiny smirk crept up the corner of their mouth. _Traitor_. _I know what you really are. Don't try to get warm with me now_.

The Commander shifted back and forth on his feet a bit - it was truly miraculous how incapable this man was when it came to anything interpersonal that didn't involve troop movements or technical skills with the sword. Why was he so nervous? Adaar knew the answer to that, and their scowl deepened. "Ah, well, then I shall, hm. I will get everything ready then." Adaar raised an eyebrow at him with a look of disinterest that had the desired effect almost immediately, as the man faltered visibly before them. He bowed again, turned on his heel and almost rushed away, off to do whatever. They didn't really care.

As he was pacing away, the hardness left Adaar's face and upper body and they were left with a feeling of emptiness. Sure, they had shown him whatever efforts to deceive them had been in vain, and they would not be fooled by him now, but at the same time Adaar felt his heavy hand on their back as they were crying into his fur coat, and the smell of it still lingered with them - a smoky and familiar, calm aroma of fire and incense and soap and salt. Tears of anger welled up in their eyes, how had they been so idiotic? That lapse in judgement would not be repeated, Adaar swore, and there would be a price to pay, for once their trust was broken there would be no getting it back. _Once a Templar always a Templar, remember that_.


End file.
